The Language of Flowers
by zayjayoriginals
Summary: Sort of a sequel to Divine Insight of the Dragon. Draco reveals a secret to Epiphanie, opening a window into the lives of some of their friends, immersing them in adventures that will bind them to one another and others they never expected. Mostly cannon compliant-spoilers for Fantastic Beasts (Includes BDSM) UPDATED WITH NEW CHAPTERS & CONTENT (references my fic, TIME BANDITS)
1. Belladonna

_I was always under the impression that purebloods had very Victorian ways about them, and it seemed entirely appropriate that their courtship rituals would follow. Every flower mentioned in this story has a particular meaning within the context that they are mentioned._

* * *

He is watching her as she moves about the floor, her long hair floats like gossamer as she spins. Clad in all in black, she is grace personified and the sinewy muscles of her long limbs rippling beneath her leotards remind him of a panther moving effortlessly through the forest. He is spellbound by her moves. They are at once beautiful and erotic, and he is filled with the need to touch her. She looks to him, her eyes holding him in their spell, and begins to move in his direction. Her long, lean legs extend into a running leap and he reaches out for her. When he looks at her in his arms, her eyes are wide with shock and pain. His hands are bloody, and he pulls a knife from her ribs. The darkened room echoes with familiar laughter.

Épiphanie woke with a start, Draco's horrified face swimming in her subconscious. She shuffled, half-awake, through her cottage in the players' village at Dragon Grove Arena and pulled open her front door just as Draco apparated into the garden. He is wearing yesterday's clothes, his long platinum hair disheveled.

"Did you see it?" he asked, a discomfited expression on his face.

"No. I only felt you awaken." She opened her arms and he stepped into them, pulling her close, and clinging to her as if she would disappear if he let go. She took his hand and led him into the house where they climbed into her antique wrought iron bed and held one another silently. Épiphanie dropped off to sleep within minutes. Draco's eyelids did not fall until the first orange rays of morning touched the sheer curtains at her bedroom window.

* * *

Épiphanie opened the box and gazed at the ring sitting between the two halves of a velveteen pillow. The stone and setting were ringed with diamonds. Draco laid his hands upon her shoulders and leaned over, touching his cheek to hers.

"What's that?" he asked.

"My class ring. Tante Celeste sent it." She shrugged. "I had actually forgotten all about it. Maman had ordered it as a birthday gift for me before I came to the UK."

Draco gingerly took the ring from the box and examined it. It was white gold with an oval pearl, encircled with the carved words, _Joseph N. Clark._ The setting was ringed by diamonds. On one side, there was an English bulldog beneath the word _BULLDOGS._ On the other was carved the year 2000 along with a majorette wielding a baton. He'd never seen a ring like it. Hogwarts didn't have any symbolic items other than uniforms and house jumpers, hats and scarves, all of which were perfectly practical to life in the Scottish highlands. He was certain that of those items, the only thing he'd clung to in the year since they'd completed their education was his Slytherin scarf and the first game snitch he'd ever caught. Draco took Épiphanie's hand and slipped the ring on her finger.

"Seems kind of dumb to even have it now. I didn't graduate from Clark Prep." She held up her hand and examined the ring.

"Do you regret that?" he asked. "You did attend school there for two years." Épiphanie shrugged.

"I don't know. No, I guess not. It wasn't necessarily one of the best schools in the city, but we did okay. I had friends and stuff, but even though I was popular, I didn't really feel like I fit in. Of course, now I know why." She smiled vacantly.

Draco pulled her into an embrace and played in the soft waves of her long hair. Since she wore it braided most days for Quidditch, the mass of curls had softened and straightened somewhat; less resembling that of her friend, Hermione Granger, whose bushy mane always looked as if it had a current of electricity running through it. Draco kissed her forehead.

"You don't _have_ to wear it, you know. I don't think your aunt meant to upset you by sending it. I think it's rather nice, however. Hogwarts doesn't have any such thing. Although, I must say I honestly don't believe that any of the recent alumni would particularly cherish a reminder of our school years—particularly those in our class." He grimaced. Épiphanie nodded sympathetically. "That doesn't mean we don't have our mementos."

"Yeah, I've heard that stupid snitch buzzing in the case on your desk." She gave him a smirk. Draco's ears turned pink and he smiled back at her.

"And I seem to recall a certain witch twirling a baton and dancing by herself down by the lake when we were in school." He winked and glanced briefly to the collection of majorette batons neatly arranged in a corner of her parlor. She smiled broadly.

"Touché." Épiphanie wrinkled her nose. "Meh, I think I'll wear it—at least for now. We should get going or we'll be late." She gave Draco a chaste peck and pulled out of his embrace. He offered her his arm so they could disapparate.

* * *

Seconds later, they were stepping out of a disused public restroom in the Underground. Draco checked the soles of his expensive shoes for any signs that the fetid and stagnant water that seemed to cover the room had soiled them. Épiphanie tugged on his sleeve and they moved through the terminal and boarded a train to Leicester Square.

Loud music filtered to the hallway outside the loft in a tony building just off Charing Cross Road, and they were unsure anyone could hear them knock, as several minutes passed before the door was opened by Dean Thomas, who looked surprised to see them, despite having invited them himself days earlier. A nearly imperceptible grin tugged at one side of Draco's face.

"Come on in!" Dean gestured for them to enter, waving his wand as he did so. The volume of the stereo lowered drastically, and several items leaped into a chest which quickly closed and locked itself. "Have a seat, and let me see if I can move Seamus along!" He disappeared up a metal staircase, his bare feet barely making a sound.

"You get the feeling that we might have interrupted something?" Épiphanie gave Draco a look as they sat on the modern-looking divan in the center of the large, open room. The loft was long and retained much of its original design, with walls of exposed brick and wood plank floors which had been stained and finished in a golden hue. There was a sculptural divider, which served as a large wine rack for an impressive collection of vintages, separating the sitting and dining area from a well-appointed galley kitchen. The walls were adorned with fantastic works of art, many of which bore Dean's signature. Taking advantage of the natural light that poured through the large windows, one corner had been set up as an art studio. There was a work table and a collection of easels where they saw at least one canvas covered with a drape. A number of drawing pads were scattered about the room.

Épiphanie and Draco looked upwards at the myriad sounds of thumps—which sounded almost as if a wrestling match was going on above—and muffled voices before Dean and Seamus appeared on the stairs, smiling genially.

"Sorry, about that!" Dean said, joining them in the sitting area. "Some of us seem to have found ourselves _chained_ to the bed this morning and simply could _not_ get up."

Seamus snorted as he made his way into the kitchen. "Wine?" he offered.

"Thank you," Épiphanie replied.

"Yes, please," said Draco.

Seamus joined them a moment later, levitating a tray laid with Young Cheddar, Havarti and Tomme d'Alsace cheeses, with water crackers, and another with glasses and a bottle of Merlot.

"I stumbled upon this label practically _buried_ in th' back of a wine merchant over in the Royal Opera Arcade. It's th' first Tuscan I'd tried— _Fuoco Serpentino—_ that's the vineyard. One taste and I was in love!" Seamus poured glasses for everyone. "Wait til you try the Sauvignon blanc; it's deliciously crisp!"

Draco eyed the bottle and a slow grin spread across his face as he lifted his glass, swirling the contents. "I'm quite flattered that you like it. I'll have the master vintner send you a case or two," he said, taking a sip.

"Beg yer pardon?"

" _Fuoco Serpentino_ —it's the label produced by the Malfoy vineyard in Tuscany. Good to know that even Gryffindors have some level of good taste in wines." He smirked and lifted the glass to his lips.

"Figures!" Dean scoffed good-naturedly. "Malfoys have their hands in everything!"

"Aye! Well, I had been wonderin' if we should add it to our cellar at th' club. We hadn't yet found a really good wizard-produced label."

"Well, if you've done your research, you'll know that _Fuoco Serpentino_ is certainly among the finest of labels. Fortunately for me and my financial interests, Lucius was not so foolish as to tangle the Malfoy business interests in his political dealings. Of course, having little interest in the goings on of the winery, beyond increasing the bottom line and snagging a few vintages for the cellar, he never noticed that his vintners had no qualms supplying muggle distributors and collectors. Since our name is not on the label, sales have continued at a steady pace in the wizarding world as well." He smirked wickedly. "Orders from muggle wine merchants currently far outstrip wizard collectors. The Sauvignon blanc has been widely respected throughout Europe for decades."

"Now, that's funny!" Dean chuckled.

"So where is this club, and when are we going to be invited to check it out? You know I'm down to shake my groove thang!" Épiphanie asked later, as they sat down at the glass and steel trestle table in the dining area. Seamus served a quiche Florentine for lunch, with a bottle of Draco's previously raved about Sauvignon blanc. "That dancehall you were throwin' down when we got here—I love Beenie Man!"

"Aye, dancehall's me favorite. It's a couple years old, but _Who Am I,_ just rocks!"

"The club's just out Charing Cross Road on the edge of Soho," said Dean. "It actually backs against Diagon Alley. How's that for luck? We figure if we do well, we might apply for a portal."

"Ye should see the mural Dean's got planned for behind the bar!"

Dean's dark skin appeared a bit flushed, and he toyed with the silver band, adorned with the single sapphire, on his little finger as he shot Seamus a look.

"I erm—that's kind of why I invited you over—I wanted to get your approval on…" He pushed his chair away from the table with a noisy scrape and went over to the easel containing the covered painting.

Épiphanie and Draco turned to watch him. Dean drew back the cloth that covered the wide canvas and turned the easel to them. Épiphanie's eyes were wide and Draco's lips parted in amazement. She rose from her chair and moved closer to the painting.

"Is that…me?" she asked.

The image stood out against a black background. The stark vines of belladonna flowers framed a likeness of Épiphanie, clad in a lavender hebesha telf trimmed in aubergine embroidery, her jeweled hair covered in a netela. She looked over her shoulder as she reclined on a throne of entwined mahogany tree roots.

"I haven't enchanted her yet, because I wanted to be sure you…I hope you like it."

"Wait—what is that? Is that a—" she reached her hand towards the painting, but drew back before touching the image.

"Dragonfly patronus," Dean replied, his gaze flickering to Draco momentarily. The silvery insect was barely visible among the vines.

"My god, Dean! That's—I have no words! I'm—I'm flabbergasted. Are you sure you want to place _my_ portrait in your club?"

"Well, I had a dream of this image, and she had no face until I started sketching. I was a bit stunned myself when I recognized your face, but it just seemed fitting."

"The club's name is _Nightshade,_ " Seamus said.

"The beautiful enchantress," said Draco. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I can't think of a more fitting tribute than your visage charming the masses like a siren, my immortal beloved."

He pressed himself against her back, brushing aside her hair and trailing a line of kisses up her neck until he reached her earlobe, where he nipped at the flesh behind the gold hoop in her ear. Épiphanie shuddered, and her brown skin flushed with embarrassment as she realized her friends were watching them.

She wasn't unaccustomed to his open displays of affection. In fact, her mind drifted back to a particularly public lap dance she'd given Draco only a year ago. There was something in Dean's gaze, however, that gave her pause. She suddenly realized that he wasn't looking at her; he was watching Draco with something like thinly veiled amusement and deliberate curiosity. When she turned her mind to Draco's, he suddenly seemed to come back to himself, blocking her out, and returned to the discussion at hand.

"Your work is distinctive, Dean. It's not like anything we have at the Manor, or even that I can recall seeing upon the walls of Hogwarts Castle." He moved towards an abstract hanging on the wall, his fingers lingering in the clasp of Épiphanie's for the briefest moment, encouraging her to join him.

"Well, I'm drawn by more of the muggle artistic influences, which are less romanticized than wizarding art. I prefer the post-impressionist and abstract styles." Dean's voice was proud as he spoke of his passion.

"Perhaps I might commission a portrait," Draco turned to him, and then cast a glance at Épiphanie. "As you seem to have such an eye for capturing The Lady's aura."

"Ah, Malfoy—I don't know. I've never—"

"Then you absolutely _must!_ The Malfoy collection of notable art is surpassed only by Hogwarts itself. I am, of course, prepared to pay you a handsome sum." Draco leveled a persuasive gaze.

"Well, perhaps we can discuss it and see."


	2. Cruisin'

"I told you, if you can ride a broom you could ride a horse!" Draco exclaimed as they dismounted the magnificent thoroughbreds at the paddocks of The Manor. He flicked his wand and the tack removed itself from the equines and floated to the appropriate storage spaces. Another wave of the wand opened each horse stall and the animals clopped gracefully to their homes.

"Yeah, well, I still think the ride on a broom is much smoother," Épiphanie retorted. She swung on the gate. "What's down there?" she asked, pointing to a barn a few yards away that looked to be neglected.

"It's the carriage house. I have a vague memory of sleigh rides when I was very small, but we never really had much use for carriages and the like, so I suppose it's just abandoned." Draco shrugged.

"Aw, that's just _sad!_ " she remarked, hopping down from the gate and moving towards the building. "A carriage ride seems _much_ more romantic of an adventure, don't you think?"

"I thought we were meant to be going on a picnic!" Draco caught up to her as she hopped easily over the ivy-covered gate.

" _Alohamora!_ " she said. The lock that held the wide doors disengaged. "So does a romp in the hayloft," she winked, waving her hands. The doors slid apart quite smoothly, despite the rusted appearance of their hardware.

The space was long and dark, and cobwebs veiled the timbers where here and there a rat scuttled across the space and a few barn owls swooped out, clearly annoyed at having their dark and comfortable quarters so unceremoniously disturbed. Large stalls lined either side of a long passage with a floor of flagstone. There were parked majestic coaches that looked to be made for royalty, in black and silver with ornate trimmings, and bearing the Malfoy coat of arms. There were also two sleighs, a cabriolet, and two landau carriages sitting under a layer of dust among the stalls. At the end of the space, obstructing the doors on the opposite end of the barn, there was a large object shrouded in cloth.

"What's that?" asked Épiphanie. "It looks a little low and small to be a coach."

"I don't know. _Lumos!_ " Draco lit his wand. Épiphanie did the same, and they moved closer to the strange article.

Épiphanie began to laugh when they found themselves within a few feet of the shrouded item.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me! You didn't know this was here!"

"What? What's so funny? You _know_ what that is?" Draco looked at her strangely.

"Go ahead, look!" she laughed, pointing at the shroud. Draco huffed and waved his wand. The cloth was whisked away, and his mouth dropped open.

"An automobile?" he exclaimed, dumbstruck. "What on earth would that be doing in here?" Draco moved cautiously towards the vintage vehicle.

"Somebody had a see-cret!" Épiphanie sang, skipping up to the car and lightly trailing her fingers over the elegantly curved fenders. "Ooh! MG!" She gasped. "Draco, this is a 1954 TF 1500! These cars are collector's items! It's _gorgeous!"_

"I—a car! A _car,_ at Malfoy Manor! It—it just doesn't make sense!"

"Well, let's see if there's registration papers." She leaned over the open cockpit and reached into the glove box. "Ah! Here we are!" She held her lit wand close to the weathered and fragile paper. "MG TF 1500…registered to one Abraxas Malfoy…purchased July 1954…"

"1954? That was the year that Lucius was born! Why would Grandfather purchase an automobile? He absolutely despised _anything_ muggle!" Draco stood staring at the car in astonishment.

"I wonder if it runs!" Épiphanie slipped behind the wheel, caressing it lovingly. "Keys! Where are the keys!" she searched the cabin of the vehicle. "Accio car keys!" The tiny car keys zoomed from a hook beside the closed doors behind the car, and she caught them in her gloved hands. She inserted one into the ignition, pressed down the clutch and turned the key. There was a whine and sputter before the engine roared to life. "Yass!" she exclaimed, revving the engine.

Draco leapt back in alarm as dust swirled into the air. "Épiphanie! What are you doing?"

"C'mon! Get in! Let's see what she can do!" she grinned.

"It's a _car!_ "

"Yeah, I know it's a _car_. I _do_ have a driver's license you know." She put the car in gear and tapped the gas. The vehicle leapt forward about a foot.

"Is it safe?" he asked, nervously approaching the car.

"Draco, you have taken two trans-Atlantic flights on an airplane that you'd never before ridden, traveled on the Underground and have taken plenty of London taxis in the last two years. Get in or I'm leaving you!"

Finally, Draco slid nervously into the passenger seat. He gave her an anxious look as she stepped on the gas and drove the car out of the barn. She pointed her wand and the gate swung open. They drove through and then along the lane that ran to the front of the house. When they reached the gates of Malfoy Manor, she pointed her wand again and picked up speed as the classic green sports car landed on the main road. She laughed as the wind whipped her hair and the needle of the speedometer continued to move past higher numbers.

Draco gripped the door and anything else he could put his hands on as she shifted gears with ease.

"Wow! Driving right side is easier than I thought!" she exclaimed.

"What? I thought you said you had a license!"

"I do—in America. Our cars are oriented on the left." She pointed to where he sat. "How long would it take to drive to Grimmauld Place? Harry would _love_ this!"

"I don't know! I've never _driven_ anywhere! Épiphanie, _please_ , could we go a little slower—and return to the Manor?" Draco pushed his hair out of his face, only to find strands of the platinum tresses blowing back across his countenance as soon as he turned.

"Big baby!" she teased, and turned the car back in the direction from which they came. When they returned to Malfoy Manor, she parked the car in front of the house. "That was awesome! I've never driven a vintage European car before! And you had no idea that your grandfather had it?"

"None at all. I—I just don't get it. This is the man who raised Lucius! Why would he have such a significant muggle artefact? But—hmm…"

"What?"

"Well, he also purchased Antares Hall right about the same time, though he never lived there. No one lived there before me."

"A secret car...and a secret house…sounds like there's a secret lover somewhere." Épiphanie shrugged and cast a knowing look his way. "I'm just saying." Draco was thoughtful for a moment. She placed a hand on his thigh. "Does it really matter? So your grandfather had a secret passion for a muggle, or muggle things—or both. He's dead and gone. You're free to do what you like, including have a picnic with the half-blood daughter of the blood-traitor Minister of Magic." She grinned.

Whatever questions Draco had had about his grandfather's muggle artefacts disappeared as he enjoyed a leisurely picnic beneath an ancient weeping willow beside a pond not far from the trail they had ridden earlier. He lay on the ground with his head in Épiphanie's lap, staring through the curtain of leaves that reached out to brush the surface of the water.

"You, my beloved, are a most amazing witch. You are the most amazing woman that I have ever met. You are so beautiful, enchanting, and powerful! Dean was right to put you in his mural. More lovely than Aphrodite, and brighter than Mnemosyne you are. The gods themselves must have blessed your birth." He reached up and caressed her face.

"Waxing poetic again. That means you want something from me," she said.

"I only wish to proclaim my unyielding devotion to my immortal beloved."

"Is this about the portrait?"

"Well, you keep putting it off."

"It's not me, actually. Dean and I haven't been able to come to a time that suits both our schedules. We can only do it at his place or Antares Hall, which also complicates matters. Anyway, I don't understand why you need my portrait to hang in Malfoy Manor. It seems a bit much, don't you think? A simple photo for your bedside table would do." She picked a dandelion and blew on its clock, sending the tiny pappi floating out into the air.

"Because you deserve to be there—in _some_ way."

She rolled her eyes. "So, we're back on that again."

"It's been a lovely day, my sweet. We've had a delightful al fresco meal, and an unexpected adventure. Even the dragonflies have come to bask in their goddess' presence. I won't speak of it again." He reached into the picnic hamper and withdrew a large green apple, offering it up to her. She took a bite, juice dripping down her chin. He sat up and licked the sweet nectar from her skin, lingering for a kiss. "I do recall something about a romp."

"Can we take the car to London?" she grinned as she allowed him to urge her backwards until she was lying on the blanket.

"Perhaps," he said between kisses. "But right now, the only thing I want to take is you, my beloved." He began to unbutton her blouse.

"Mmmm!" she purred. "Well, let's see how you handle these dangerous curves." She wrapped her arms around him. "First lesson, getting the _engine_ started!"


	3. Portrait of a Lady

"I hope the lighting is good enough for you, Dean," Épiphanie said as she entered a large room on the third floor of Antares Hall. The billiard table and other social accoutrements had been temporarily removed, and Dean had draped a neutral background that cascaded to the floor over a wide frame that faced the large windows.

"It's excellent, really," he replied absently as he determined the best position for his easel and supplies.

"Great, well, shall we get started?" she asked. "I've never been painted before, so…"

"Well, the most important thing is to be patient. It won't take as long as if we only used muggle techniques, but still, I'll probably make a few adjustments as we get started and I work through the initial sketches. I kind of have an idea, based on what Draco said he would like to see."

Dean conjured a tufted bench with a cushion of emerald green, and stood scrutinizing it for a moment. He changed the cushion color to black, looking from it to Épiphanie and back again. As he stood trying to decide what to do with the bench, Draco entered, accompanied by Castor and Pollux, and draped Épiphanie's serpent necklace about her throat. He opened a small jewel box and lifted out a pair of emerald and diamond, kundan-style chandelier earrings. She attached the gorgeous jewels to her ears. He nodded to the artist and left without a word, the dogs trotting along behind him. Dean looked from the bench to her once more, and waved his wand, changing the cushion to a shimmery grey that reminded Épiphanie of Draco's eyes. Dean smiled and turned to her, taking her by the hand and leading her to the bench.

She sat down and arranged her skirts around her. Dean stepped back and looked at her. He screwed up his face and walked around her in a circle.

"May I braid your hair?" he asked.

"Oh, uh, well, I guess so," she shrugged.

Dean carded his fingers through her curls, drawing her hair back over her shoulders. His hands were gentle and dexterous as he twined his fingers through her tresses until he reached the end. He conjured a silver ribbon and wound it around her hair to secure the ends. He gently took her shoulders and adjusted her posture and position on the bench several times. Dean stepped back and surveyed her once more. She looked up at him expectantly.

"Umm, do you mind if I paint your hands?" he produced a vessel of henna paste.

"Oo-kay," she replied, curious as to how this portrait would turn out. She held out a hand, and Dean dipped a fine brush into the paste.

Even using magic to speed up the process, two hours had passed before he completed the elaborate Eritrean designs on the back of each hand and up each wrist. When he released her hand, she was suddenly keenly aware of how gentle his touch had been. He stood back once more and studied her. Dean approached her again, and took her hands, gently urging her to her feet.

He stood there for several minutes, staring into her eyes. Finally, he placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed aside the fabric of her dress. She drew back, drawing in a soft gasp.

"What—"

Dean moved his hands to the buttons at the bodice of the dress. "It's okay. This will work," he whispered, pushing away the fabric until the dress fell at her feet.

Finding herself suddenly bare and standing in front of her friend—albeit her _gay_ friend—Épiphanie felt unexpectedly vulnerable and nervous. She wrapped her arms around herself.

"You really are unbelievably striking, Épiphanie. You are a beautiful muse." He traced a finger down her cheek and along her neck. She shivered, goosebumps prickling her skin.

"Um," she cleared her throat. "Dean? What are you doing?" She asked, her voice hoarse.

"I am engraving your image in my unconscious." His voice was husky, and he trailed his fingertips along her arm, until he reached her hands, and then laced his fingers in hers.

Her peripheral vision caught a movement at the door, and she turned her head to see Draco watching. He leaned against the frame, his gaze intense, but said nothing. She gasped and stepped back, but found the movement hindered by the bench behind her. Dean caught her before she fell, pulling her against him. She was assaulted by the heat radiating through the paint-splattered jeans and plain tee shirt he wore, accompanied by the light scent of sandalwood and vanilla that emanated from him.

Épiphanie felt lightheaded. She was caught between Draco's penetrating gaze and Dean's sturdy embrace. She could feel his warm breath on her neck. She stared at Draco, but she saw the crease in his brow that informed her she would wrest no information from his thoughts. Neither wizard appeared the least bit concerned about the other's presence or actions.

Dean lowered her to the bench. He gently guided her into a pose with her legs drawn up on the bench, one hand resting on her knee. She looked over her front shoulder. He arranged her braid over her back shoulder. The jewels that adorned her throat and ears gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Finally, he stepped back and picked up his palette. Épiphanie swallowed hard. Though her gaze was fixed in the opposite direction, she could still feel Draco's presence—his eyes upon her. She heard the first whisper of brush against the canvas and exhaled slowly.

The faintest smile tugged at the corner of Draco's lips as he watched Dean find the perfect composition for Épiphanie. Dean's face was a mask of concentration that betrayed nothing of the importance of what had just passed between the three mages. This was more than a commission.


	4. A Gentlemen's Agreement

"Master Draco, sir." Tickety entered the study and gave a low bow. "There is a visitor at the gate."

"Who is it, Tickety?" Draco asked. Épiphanie was perched in his lap as they looked over the reporting on The Dragons' latest match in _The Daily Prophet_ sports section.

"Mr. Blaise Zabini."

Épiphanie lowered the paper and looked at him. Draco gave her a shrug and shook his head.

"Show him in, Tickety."

"Now, what does _he_ want?" she wondered aloud, folding the paper and setting it on the desk. "Have you even spoken to him since we left school?"

He kissed her shoulder. "Hardly. We offered him a trial with the Dragons, at Harry's suggestion. Predictably, he turned it down."

"Humph! _There's_ a surprise," she said with a derisive snort.

The door of the study opened and Blaise followed the house elf into the room.

"Zabini," Draco barely deigned to give him a glance as he ran an idle hand over Épiphanie's thigh.

"Blaise," Épiphanie gave him a tight smile.

"Draco. Épiphanie, you're looking well." The smile he returned was equally disdainful—or perhaps it was a bit sardonic? No doubt, Blaise still harbored some resentment over her painful rejection of his advances when they were students at Hogwarts.

"Shall I leave you to it, boo?" She looked to Draco.

"Thank you, my beloved. I trust you can amuse yourself until we are finished here?" He traced a finger over her cheek; a gesture she knew was more to unsettle Blaise than it was meant as a sign of affection.

She took it for what it was and whispered in his ear. "You are truly wicked!"

Draco took her chin and pulled her in for a deep kiss. He slid his hand over her bottom and pinched it, then splayed his fingers over the curved fullness in the jeans that she wore. She gracefully unfolded herself from his embrace and took up the paper, tucking it under her arm.

"Good to see you, Blaise."

"Épiphanie, always a pleasure." He held his thin smile as she left the room, his eyes lingering on her retreating figure as she pulled the door closed behind her. Draco cleared his throat, and he snapped back to himself. "Well, now. Look at the two of you, so cozy in your muggle attire. No doubt Lucius would be… _proud_." Blaise took a seat in one of the chairs that faced the desk. "And what does the Minister have to say to this little arrangement? I'm surprised the press hasn't gotten wind of it—or does the Malfoy name still hold sway over the information _The Prophet_ may print about them?"

Draco calmly leaned back in his chair, and steepled his fingers as he leveled his gaze at Blaise.

"Not that it is any of your business, Blaise, but as Épiphanie maintains her own residence in the players' village at Dragon Grove—along with the other members of the Wiltshire Dragons Quidditch Club, The Minister of Magic does not seem to be too disturbed. I'm certain that my love life is _not_ the reason for your unannounced visit, and I do happen to have a business to run." He gestured to the parchments on his desk. "So, why don't you cut to the adagio?"

Blaise withered a bit and heaved a sigh, looking back towards the door as if hoping that Épiphanie might return and interrupt their discussion, giving him an excuse to back out of his plan for being there in the first place.

"It's Mother. She's gone." He gave Draco a look of defeat as he spoke. "And our vaults are empty."

* * *

Épiphanie wandered down the second floor corridor away from the study. She paused when she reached the stairs and instead of going up, continued on to the east wing of the house. She examined paintings of witches and wizards who mostly looked upon her with disdain, until she came upon a portrait of a boy standing beside a rocking horse. She paused and studied the boy. She surmised his age to be about four or five years old. He had silver-grey eyes and a cherubic face framed by downy white-blond curls, and wore a dark middy blouse with matching knee breeches adorned with silver buttons. His serious expression softened when Épiphanie approached the picture, and his eyes widened in wonder.

She smiled, recognizing the subject of the painting immediately, and winked at the boy as she turned to continue down the corridor. He started anxiously, and began to follow her from painting to painting, much to the consternation of the other portrait subjects.

"Are you following me?" she asked. He nodded vigorously. "Why?"

"Because you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen—except Mother!" he exclaimed.

"Well, I'm flattered."

"I'm going to marry you!"

"Are you really? Aww, that's cute!"

"I'm not cute! I'm _handsome!_ I'll be a famous wizard one day!"

"I have no doubt that you will be one day. Everyone will know your name."

"Everyone already knows _my name!_ " he said, haughtily. Épiphanie laughed.

"You know, that's true, Draco Malfoy. I'm going to go now, okay?"

"Farewell, my immortal beloved!" the boy in the painting gave her a courtly bow, and Épiphanie curtsied in return before continuing on.

* * *

"Do you not have any idea where she's gone?" Draco asked Blaise. "If the vault is empty, she'd have had to transfer those assets—unless there were none."

"Those wretched goblins at Gringotts won't tell me a thing because I wasn't an account signatory." Blaise scowled. "An estate agent arrived this morning with a notice to vacate. I have to be out in ten days! She's selling up! I can't believe it! That—that— _bitch!_ " he spat.

"Really, Blaise." Draco's tone was unsympathetic. "You had to anticipate something like this. With Shacklebolt running things, the Ministry was bound to get aggressive and begin to question all of these _untimely_ deaths. Barely a year passed between the last three. You ought to consider yourself fortunate that you're still on this side of the rose garden yourself." He went to a shelf behind the desk that held a tray with a small number of choice liquors and picked up a decanter. "Single Malt?"

"Glenfiddich?"

"Laphroaig."

"Quarter cask?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "An Cuan Mor. _Honestly,_ Blaise. What am I—a philistine?"

"Ah, yes, of course. Forgive me. Although, one is led to wonder…having seen an _automobile_ parked in front of your house." Blaise couldn't resist the dig, and raised a brow. "Am I to assume that it belongs to The Lady?"

"The _car_ is mine." Draco poured two fingers of scotch for himself and capped the decanter without making another offer to his classmate. "What is it that you plan to do about your situation?"

Blaise looked longingly at the scotch decanter, wishing he had restrained his general urge to be supercilious. A little liquid courage would go a long way right now.

"I was rather hoping that you might see your way to give me a loan."

Draco returned to the chair behind his desk and sipped his scotch thoughtfully. He set the double old-fashioned glass down on the blotter and traced a finger over the rim of the cut crystal vessel as he regarded the wizard who had once been one of his closest friends.

"What exactly leads you to believe that I would do such a thing?" he asked.

"Well, you did offer me a trial with your club."

Draco snorted. "I offered you a trial, at the request of my partner—Harry Potter." He gave Blaise a pointed look. "As I recall, you considered a career as a professional athlete _beneath_ you."

Blaise met Draco's gaze with barely contained equanimity. He nodded in concession and stood.

"Very well. Thank you for your time, Malfoy. I'll see myself out then."

Every fiber of Draco's being told him to let the wizard leave. After all, he had consistently insulted him and made every effort to drive a wedge between him and Épiphanie during their last year of school. Nonetheless, Blaise also had the potential to embarrass Draco if he so chose, and their friendship was longer than his memory of a single term of school when they had all been attempting to find footing again in a postbellum world.

"Zabini, wait." Draco swiveled his chair. Blaise stopped, his hand on the doorknob. "Did you not achieve Oustanding N.E.W.T.s in Potions and Arithmancy?"

"I did, as well as Exceeds Expectations in Herbology." Blaise turned to him, unsuccessfully concealing the hopeful look in his eyes. Draco gestured for him to return to his seat.

"I suppose I might be able to do something to assist you with your circumstances. However, as you have no collateral to speak of, a loan is absolutely out of the question. I am, however inclined to offer you something you might not have considered—employment."

Blaise regarded Draco with a look that reminded him of the expression he wore when Épiphanie turned Nott's dinner into maggots their first night back at school.

"Yes, Blaise, a job. There is an opening with Malfoy Apothecary that I believe you will find acceptable. You will have to move to Paris. I have an apartment there where you may lodge until you find your own residence, and I am prepared to give you a _reasonable_ advance against your salary to assist you with relocation. This is a one-time offer, so if the terms are agreeable, I'll have a contract drawn up and owled to you in forty-eight hours."

"Done." Blaise wasted little time in replying. He rose, and they shook hands. "I—what made you change your mind?"

"There was a time when I thought I was down to nothing, and someone—more than one someone—came into my life offering me everything. I will never be able to pay it all back, but at least I can pay it forward."


	5. Restis Incantamentum

Draco gazed up at the painting above the mantelpiece in his bedchamber. In his eyes, she was beauty personified. Her image looked off at some unseen object or place, long braid falling over the front of her shoulder. Then she turned and looked directly at him, a slow and seductive smile creeping across her face with a come-hither look in her eyes.

"My immortal beloved," he whispered.

"I still don't know about it." Épiphanie walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, spreading her hands over his chest.

"It is exquisite—nearly as lovely as the lady herself," he said, lifting one of her hands to his lips. "I can finally open my eyes each morning to your lovely visage." He stepped out of her embrace and turned to her. "Though I would much rather wake with you in my arms."

"So, we're back on that again?" Épiphanie pulled a face and turned away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. "Draco, why do we have to keep having this conversation?" she asked.

"Because I love you, and I want you with me. You are my beginning and my end."

"I can't stay here."

"But you allow me to stay at your cottage. What's the difference?"

"I don't know. It just is. This isn't my home."

"But it _can_ be. I want it to be. You are the mistress of Malfoy Manor."

"No, I'm not your wife."

"I would gladly marry you tonight, if you would stay here with me." He looked directly into her eyes.

"Draco—"

"What are you so afraid of? I thought you liked a little challenge." His voice turned teasing.

"Ha! The simple act of loving you _is_ a challenge, Draco Malfoy." She shifted in the lightness of his tone.

"Is that a fact?" he began to stalk towards her, wearing a wicked smirk.

Épiphanie raised her wand, a playful grin on her face.

"You would hex me, beloved?" he pulled a face of mock surprise.

"Try me!" she teased.

Draco made a sudden move towards her.

" _Flipendo!_ " Before her spell could reach him, Draco disapparated. "Dammit! You cheat!" She spun around, annoyed that she had fallen for his feint, but she was just a second too late.

" _Levicorpus!"_

Épiphanie was lifted into the air by her ankle.

" _Liberacorpus!_ " she snarled. She caught herself clumsily as she landed, and tucked into a somersault.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Draco cried, taking advantage of her momentary distraction.

"As _if!_ " Épiphanie rolled her eyes.

She floated gracefully into the air, and over the bed, but Draco leapt and caught her, both of them tumbling onto piles of pillows. He pinned her down, grinning madly. She gasped, a look of ersatz horror on her face.

"For _shame!_ Resorting to _muggle_ means to subdue your opponent!" she giggled.

Draco began to tickle her. She laughed loudly and went on the counter-attack.

 _Rictusempra!_

"Shit! No-no fair!" Draco fell away from her, writhing from the tickling spell. Épiphanie rolled on top of him.

"All's fair in love and war," she laughed, straddling his squirming hips. " _Finite!_ "

Their giggling subsided and was replaced with smoldering looks.

"What's the matter? Can't handle being bested by a witch?" she purred.

He gripped her hips lifting his pelvis just enough for her to take note.

"What makes you think I've been bested, my love?" He easily bucked her off and rolled on top of her, pinning her arms over her head. He had expected her to squirm or hex him, but instead her elated expression turned contemplative. He looked at her curiously.

"Are you alright, Dragonfly?"

"Y-yeah. I was just—there's something kind of—" she hesitated. Draco released her wrists and sat back, still straddling her.

"You may speak freely, beloved."

"Well, I don't know why it's crossing my mind just now, but—well, is Dean—Is he um, bisexual?" Épiphanie worried her lip as she looked up at him. She reached for his hands, lacing her fingers with his.

"Wow, not exactly what I was expecting you to say there. But to answer your question, he's pansexual. It doesn't matter much to him whether male, female, transgender, or—"

" _Or?_ Or _what!_ " She gave him a horrified look.

"I was going to say _being._ There was a rumour on about an encounter he had last year with a vampire not long after we left school. He's quite fortunate to have come out of it with his mortality intact. Seamus was less than pleased."

"I should say so!" Épiphanie concurred. "I'm surprised that they would stay together after he cheated, actually." She silently wondered about Draco's non-reaction to Dean's overtures as he painted her.

"Dean didn't cheat on Seamus. Their relationship is—unique. Seamus is generally well aware of Dean's occasional dalliances. He was largely upset that a vampire was a bit too far afield, shall we say? They argue a lot about Dean's risky behavior. Seamus is fiercely protective of Dean—having nearly lost him in the war. For his part, Dean would likely rip to shreds anyone who would dare hurt Seamus." Draco rocked his hips against hers just a bit. She instinctively responded.

"Um—" Épiphanie hesitated. "Draco, why—did you know that Dean was going to paint me nude?" The question came out in a rush. Her heart was pounding. She could still feel the sensation of Dean's touch on her skin and his intense body heat during that brief moment in which he held her close.

Draco squeezed her hand and continued to move his pelvis over hers, staring down into her eyes. "I asked him." He leaned over her, his hands on either side of her head.

"And you couldn't tell me beforehand?" She wanted to turn her head. His deep gaze was inviting her into a place she didn't want to go right now. She wanted him to reveal himself on his own.

"Did the experience upset you?" he asked. She couldn't concentrate on her thoughts, the insistent pressure and friction against her clitoris was distracting. She bucked her hips in response.

"I—well—I don't know what it made me feel. I was—startled, and then you were there watching…I kept waiting for you to say something—do something. You didn't. Why?"

"I didn't speak because I know that the artist requires concentration. Some artists prefer to converse with their subjects in order to connect with them. I was certain, just from having watched him draw, that this was not true of him. I did not wish to break his focus."

"But—" she began, but Draco placed a finger to her lips. He brushed his lips over her ear, grinding harder into her as he whispered.

"To see you so admired by another—one who takes such delight in a thing of beauty—I found it to be…intensely erotic." He kissed her neck.

"You—you weren't jealous?" She closed her eyes, and gripped his hips, hoping to slow his intense onslaught of her senses.

"On the contrary, my immortal beloved, I was insanely jealous. Yet, there was something else there…I wished to see you in a different way. The distance between us—it allowed me to see the way you respond to touch, gaze…arousal. I saw the truth. The truth of your passion. This painting—it is imbued with that same fire and intensity. It is clear that Dean has a particular… _talent_ for extracting the finest threads of exquisite ecstasy." He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. "I should like to do the same," he whispered. He kissed her slowly and passionately before trailing a line of soft kisses over her chin and throat, moving down her torso as he unbuttoned her blouse. He smiled as she flushed and goosebumps appeared on her skin. He dragged the soft fabric slowly away from her, pushing aside her brassiere and teasing each dusky nipple, eliciting a soft moan from Épiphanie. She reached for him, but he caught her hands and gently pushed them away.

"Patience, Dragonfly," he whispered.

Draco licked a trail from her cleavage down her belly and around her navel. His late day stubble tickled her skin and she breathed a sigh. He unbuckled her belt and unzipped her jeans with his teeth, deliberately drawing them down over her lithe legs. Épiphanie, suitably disrobed, looked up at him through heavily lidded eyes. She reached up to him, and he gripped her wrists, holding them tightly as he leaned down and dipped his tongue into the soft folds of her sex.

"You taste divine, my beloved," he whispered into her. He released one hand and sank his fingers into her as he flicked his tongue over her clit.

"Unh!" Épiphanie whimpered. She gripped the bedclothes and arched her back. He spread his palm over her belly and gently pressed her back down.

"You're coming undone, already?" he murmured and increased the speed of his ministrations.

Épiphanie's breathing now came out in short pants and her legs shook. She closed her eyes and let out a moan.

"Oh my—oh my—oh my—" she bucked her hips. Just as she reached a fever pitch of passion. Draco pulled away from her, taking his wand in hand.

 _Restis Incantamentum! "Restringo!"_

Before she could respond, Épiphanie found herself bound firmly to the bed, hand and foot.

"Wha—? Draco! What the hell?" She struggled against her bonds. "That's not funny!" She glared at him. " _Relashio!"_ The bonds held tight. " _Finite!"_ Still nothing.

 _Stupefy!_

 _Impedimenta!_

Why weren't her spells working? Now she was panicking. What had Draco done to her? What was this spell he had cast? She was completely at his mercy, naked, angry and a little bit afraid. " _Draco!"_ She continued to struggle as he straddled her about the waist.

"It's a binding curse. Until the counter-curse is cast, your powers won't work."

" _WHAT_?" Épiphanie shrieked. She bucked underneath him. "Are you _insane_? Why are you doing this? Let me GO!" She twisted and squirmed.

"Épiphanie, please stop struggling, my love. You're marring your beautiful flesh." Draco leaned forward and grabbed her wrists.

"Why? _Why?_ " Épiphanie stopped struggling, her breathing labored. Her gaze shot daggers at him.

He leaned down and kissed her, tentatively releasing his grip on her wrists. Épiphanie didn't struggle anew. He felt a slight twinge of guilt for having deceived her, but he pushed it aside and pressed his lips to hers. "Please, my darling. Just let me love you. This doesn't have to be a bad thing." He pressed his hips against hers, his cock growing hard inside his trousers. The friction tortured her clit as he cupped one ample breast and gave it a squeeze. Her breath hitched and she involuntarily rocked her pelvis against his in response. "See? It's okay to give up control sometimes, Dragonfly," he whispered, trailing a line of kisses down her throat to the cleave of her full breasts. He palmed them both, lightly brushing the nipples with his thumbs. Épiphanie exhaled audibly.

"Draco…"

"Shh, just relax, love. I'm not going to hurt you." Draco lazily dragged his tongue down her torso as he continued his ministrations upon her nipples. Épiphanie's chest began to heave and she stifled a moan. "Yes, my love. Let it out." His lips played about her navel, and he dragged his impeccably manicured fingernails down her skin. She arched her back, reflexively jerking against her restraints. He pressed her back down, kissing the mound of flesh at the junction of her thighs. He glanced up to see her staring down at him, worrying her lip.

"Draco…" she murmured.

He winked at her and plunged one finger inside her again. He pressed his thumb against her throbbing clitoris. She lifted her hips again. He slipped another finger inside and took her quivering button between his lips. She pressed her lips together, stifling a moan.

"Don't hold back, Dragonfly. Let me love you," he whispered and licked her up and down, speeding the movement of his fingers until she was slick. Her legs trembled and she arched her back again, tugging at her bonds.

"Ah! …Oh! …Mmmmmm!" she cried out.

"Yes!" His hand fucked her faster, and he teased her with his tongue.

"Draco!" she panted. He vanished his clothing and came back to her, kissing her neck while he continued to move his fingers, now slick with her excitement. Draco pressed his lips to hers, parting them gently with his tongue, and let her taste herself on his tongue. "Draco…please!" She lifted her hips to his. His cock responded eagerly.

"You want it?"

"Pl-please! Unh!" Épiphanie whimpered.

"All you have to say is 'yes', my darling!" he whispered between kisses. He removed his fingers and pressed his hips against hers, but did not yield to her pleas.

"Unh!"

"Say it!" He demanded, inching into her.

"Please! Draco!" she cried.

"Say it! Say 'yes'!" He pulled back. Épiphanie squeezed her eyes shut, pulling fruitlessly at her bonds. "You know you want to! _Say_ it!" he hissed.

"Yes! Yes! _Please! Yes!_ " she wailed.

With that, Draco slid deep into her, and pressed his lips to hers, stifling his own moans.

"By Merlin, you're so hot and wet!" He drove into her, his arms quivering as he balanced above her, fighting to prolong the experience. " _Liberabit!_ " he muttered the counter-curse and Épiphanie let out a gasp, her eyes flying open.

She glared at him for a second, and reached up to him, clawing his back. Draco hissed as her nails broke his pale skin, and intensified his lovemaking. He gasped for breath as he felt her magic return in a great overwhelming surge. The flames in the fireplace flared. She clenched around him like a vise, deepening his sensations and drawing out a shudder. He slowed his attentions, struggling to maintain control.

"I love you! I love you! I love you!" Draco convulsed, clinging to her as she wrapped her legs around him, and sank her teeth into his flesh. Draco let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a howl that echoed throughout the halls of the stately house as he could no longer hold back his release.

Draco slumped on top of Épiphanie, his breath hot on her neck, and closed his eyes. Sated, his breathing slowed from a frantic, gasping pant to an even growl and he sought out her hands, to twine his fingers with hers.

"I love you so much, Épiphanie!" he murmured. "Please forgive me for deceiving you."

"Why did you do it, Draco? Why?" She sniffled. Draco lifted his head and looked at her. She turned her face away.

"I didn't mean to upset you." Draco summoned a phial of essence of dittany. He took her hands and kissed her wrists, then gently applied the potion to the angry welts encircling them. A greenish smoke billowed around the wounds and dissipated, leaving faded rings about her flesh. Draco did the same with her ankles. He held each foot and kissed it.

Épiphanie let out a frustrated sigh. "You took my magic, Draco." She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, leveling a glare at him. "How could you? How _could_ you?" she accused him.

"You're so much stronger than I, Épiphanie. I—I just wanted to have you, to give myself to _you_ just this once. You needed this. You always pour yourself into me when we make love, your powers take over and you _drown_ me. I don't know if you even feel it. I wanted for you to feel what I feel when you touch me, to control the situation and send you to your place of ecstasy." Draco crawled back up onto the bed, sitting behind her, and gathered her into his arms. She was tense, but she did not resist the embrace. He pushed her long braid to the side and planted a soft kiss on her neck. "And you did go there, didn't you?" he whispered.

Épiphanie bit her lip. The stubble on his chin tickled her neck and made goosebumps rise to her flesh again. She didn't want to admit that Draco had managed to dispel the initial shock by overwhelming her senses with his attentions. He was, in fact, beginning to engulf her all over again as he took her hand and began to plant kisses over her shoulder and down her arm to her fingertips. She closed her eyes and tried to suppress a shudder. It was fruitless, and she felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin. She let out a sigh.

"Does it frighten you?" he asked, his voice husky and dripping with sensuality.

"Yes!" she whispered.

"But it turned you on? It's turning you on now?" He continued to kiss her arm, teasing it with the coarse hair on his face. She shifted slightly, straightening her back in resistance. He let out a breathless chuckle. "So _stubborn!_ " He placed his other hand at the base of her throat and exerted the minutest bit of pressure. "You can tell me, love. One doesn't have to be a skilled legilimens to see that you are aroused." He whispered in her ear and flicked his tongue against her earlobe.

Épiphanie took in a short, sharp breath, and closed her eyes. She couldn't believe that he was unwinding her like this. Over the course of their relationship, she was the one who ruled their sexual undertakings, eking out the sweetest drops of ecstasy from Draco's core. She had woven intricate fantasies in his mind that sent him reeling, even when they were apart. Épiphanie freely gave herself to him; enjoying his rapture as her reward—floating on the bliss of his spent magic was enough to satisfy her. This feeling was new. It was raw and it burned her flesh. Her mind flashed briefly to the moment when he returned her magic to her. The sensation had made her dizzy and she'd had a carnal urge to rip him apart, and the instinct frightened her. Is that why she was reluctant to acquiesce to his insistent ministrations? He increased the pressure on her throat and wound her hair about his fist, giving it a little tug.

"Unh!" the cry escaped her lips before she could stop it.

"Yesssss!" he hissed in her ear. He relaxed his hold on her throat and slowly slid his hand down her trembling torso. "Methinks The Lady is _certainly_ aroused." He traced the ring of her belly button before sliding his slender fingers back over her clitoris and sinking them one by one into her warm, very wet pussy. He moved his hand slowly, agonizingly, in and out. "Tell me, Dragonfly. Are you aroused?" He could feel his cock growing hard again.

Épiphanie went slack, her back slumping against his chest. She didn't want to submit to him. She'd never given in to anyone in her life. It wasn't her nature. She knew she could make him stop without uttering a word, so why wasn't she? What did he want from her? She focused on his thoughts— _what?_

 _No cheating, Love._ He stilled his hand. She reached for his hand, but he released her hair and deftly grabbed her wrists, pulling them up against her sternum. _You have to tell me this is what you want. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me._

The repeated demand was all she could get from him. Épiphanie made to stand. They were athletes, and she was physically strong, but Draco was stronger still and outweighed her by nearly two stone at least. He held her fast against him, his erection pinned between them.

"I won't continue until you tell me…or hex me." He murmured in her ear, challenging her to act.

 _It's dangerous._

 _For you, ma Cherie…I would die a thousand deaths._

"Tell me!" He bit her lightly on the shoulder. _It's all for you. Tell me you want it. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me…_

Épiphanie groaned in frustration. "Yes!"

Draco moved his hand again, more vigorously now, and she rocked against it. "And you will stay with me until morning?" Draco pulled back slightly and hesitated. She pressed her lips together. He pushed his fingers deep inside and stopped, gripping her wrists tighter, and brushing his chin over her shoulder and neck.

"Mmm, yes!" she finally relented.

Draco removed his hand and pulled her backwards, rolling her over him and onto her stomach in one smooth motion, borne of countless hours spent practicing broom maneuvers. He stretched himself out over her back, his hard cock settling in the cleft between her round buttocks. Draco could feel her trembling beneath him along with the subtle brightening of the candles throughout the room. He placed his cheek against hers.

"I won't take your magic this time, my love," he whispered. "Do not be afraid." He kissed her shoulder where he'd nipped it earlier. He felt some of her trembling dissipate and the lights dimmed. "Remember that if we fall, we fall together. I will never hurt you." He whispered. The trembling lessened even more. "Do you trust me?" He ground his hips into hers.

"Yes!" she breathed, her voice slightly muffled by the down pillows.

"Do you want this?" he asked, stilling his movements. His lips brushed her ear and she gripped the sheets, bucking her hips against his groin. "No. You must _tell_ me, dearest." Draco kissed the nape of her neck.

"Mmm—yes!" she whined.

Draco smiled with satisfaction and sat back on her thighs, pinning her legs between his. He summoned his wand.

" _Restringo._ "

Épiphanie's arms and hands were summarily pinned behind her, and her wrists held magically, as if by an invisible rope. She pulled, but she could not move them. Draco was at her ear again.

"This won't mark your beautiful flesh like the other bindings." She whimpered and settled down. He laid his wand on the pillow where she could see it. "No more surprises tonight. I want you only to experience all of me. Is that okay with you?" he asked. Several seconds ticked by and he waited patiently, lightly stroking his erection. Silence. Draco huffed out a sigh and fisted her hair, pulling her head back.

"Ah!" she gasped.

"After more than a year together, I'm sure you have realized, and even been told by our friends, that patience is _not_ a virtue with which I am well acquainted, my love. I asked you a question, and I am waiting for an answer." His voice was cold as ice.

"Yes!" she cried.

"Are you absolutely _sure?_ " he asked.

"Yes! Yes!"

" _Much_ better!" He let go of her hair and grabbed her hips, lifting her roughly onto his cock.

"Oh!" she gasped. She clenched around him and he stilled.

"No, my pet. This is not for you to control. _Relax_." He waited. She trembled with the effort to comply, and relaxed her muscles. "Very good."

Draco slowly rocked his hips into hers, reveling in the way her round ass bobbed with each thrust. He smoothed his palms over each buttock. Épiphanie moaned and pulled against the invisible bonds. He increased the speed of his strokes, her hot, slick sex enveloping him. She clenched involuntarily and released.

"Good girl!" he pinched her ass.

"Ssss!" she hissed and lifted her hips toward him. Draco buried his cock deep inside her and leaned forward for leverage, gripping the sheets in his fists. "Oh, my God!" she shrieked. "I can't! I can't!"

The lights blazed and there was a whoosh as the fireplace flared wildly. Draco slowed his movements and drew back, nearly sliding out of her completely. His cock ached with the demand to finish the deed.

"You must calm yourself, my dearest, lest we perish in the flames." His voice was soft as he spoke, moving excruciatingly slowly back into her.

"Mmmmmm!" she purred, lowering her hips and arching her back. The flames receded once more.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes! Please!" Her response was immediate and Draco's lips curled into a wicked grin.

"Take it!" he hissed, and grabbed her hair again, pushing her face into the pillows.

His arm was rigid and the veins on his neck stood out as he closed his eyes, thrusting hard into her tight pussy. He grunted with the effort, harder and faster. Épiphanie writhed beneath him, struggling to breathe. She clenched around his shaft like a vise, bucking against him, her cries muffled by the pillows. Draco felt the breathless drowning sensation that always preceded his orgasm with her and wrenched her head back. She gasped desperately.

"Oh God! Oh God!"

"Fucking, Merlin! Take it!" he gasped.

"Unh! Unh! Oh! Oh!" Épiphanie's head ached and her eyes bulged, the searing pain in her scalp prevented her from closing her eyes. Every muscle in her body tightened and she shook violently as she gave over to the unbelievable feeling.

" _Shit! Fucking shit! Fucking Merlin and Nyneve!_ " Draco swore as he came, his constricted lungs finally filling with air once again. He unceremoniously released Épiphanie's hair and she slumped back into the pillows with nothing like grace. He collapsed beside her, panting heavily. " _Dimiserit Ligature,_ " he murmured.

The magical bonds that held Épiphanie bound were released, and he gently massaged the muscles in her arms and shoulders to make sure there was no soreness. He pulled her against him and summoned the bedcovers before wrapping his arms around her tightly, twining his fingers with hers. They lay quietly for several minutes, and Draco had begun to drift off to sleep when Épiphanie stirred. He tightened his grip about her and kissed her back.

"Draco?"

"Yes, love?"

"What was the spell?" Her voice was hoarse.

"Hm?"

"The curse. What was it?" she asked.

"If you are still in my arms when the morning sunlight falls across this bed, I will reveal it to you." He kissed her hair and gave her a squeeze, lifting his leg over her hip and twining himself to her, ensuring that she could not abandon him. He drifted into a contented sleep.

Épiphanie sighed, and shifted a little, searching for a comfortable position in his incarcerating embrace. Her movement roused him just enough to give her another squeeze. Even in his sleep, he would not let her go. Despite her restless thoughts, the exertion of their encounter had left her quite weak and she reluctantly allowed her eyes to flutter closed.

"Master Draco, sir," the elf whispered, her head turned slightly away from the couple lying in the massive bed. "Master Draco?" she spoke a bit louder this time.

"Mm? Yes, Pippy, what is it?" he murmured, his eyes still half closed beneath the fringe of pale blond on his face.

"Will Miss Épiphanie be taking breakfast sir?"

"She will. Set a table in my sitting room. Croissants and fresh fruit please. I will take tea. Miss Shacklebolt will have café au lait with her breakfast."

"Yes, sir." The elf disappeared with a pop, and Draco nestled into Épiphanie once again, kissing her hair.

"Good morning, my love," he whispered.

"Wha'?" Épiphanie stirred slowly. "Draco?"

"Oui, ma chère. ( _Yes, my love._ )" He kissed her shoulder. "Je crois que j'aime me réveiller avec toi dans mes bras. ( _I think I like waking up with you in my arms._ )" He drew back the covers and climbed out of bed, taking her hand to pull her along with him.

They entered the grand bath and Draco flicked his wand toward a bas relief of a dragon on the wall. The creature roused, turning its head out of the sculpture, and steaming water poured from its mouth, arcing into the massive, round copper soaking tub. Another flick of his wand and fragrant orange blossoms floated on the surface of the water. Draco took Épiphanie's face into his hands and pressed his lips to hers. Her expression remained bland as she looked at him, but she let out a slight gasp of surprise when he swept her off her feet and carried her to the deep tub, stepping in and settling her against his chest. As they sank into the fragrant warmth, water overflowed the edge of the basin and disappeared between the crevices in the stone floor.

They sat silently for several minutes, the fragrance of citrus scented waters making their eyelids heavy. Draco rested his head on the edge of the tub and cradled Épiphanie's head against his shoulder, lazily stroking her damp hair. He took her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips.

"Draco—"

"It is called _Restis Incantamentum._ " He rested his cheek against her head.

"Where did—did you learn it during—"

"No. I found a rare tome amongst the books in the east wing when I was doing inventory last spring." She lifted her head and turned to look at him with wide eyes. "Yes, I know. We should consider ourselves most fortunate that _he_ never discovered it. It is certainly not a spell I believe we should share with anyone else." Draco kissed her forehead and continued to stroke her hair.

"No. I don't think so." She was quiet again, watching the flower blossoms floating in the water. "I—um—I just don't understand why—why did you—I mean—" Épiphanie closed her eyes and took a breath. "Draco, why did you take my magic? Why didn't you just—is this a thing you're into?" She pulled out of his grasp and turned until she was facing him in the large bathtub.

"I—" Draco faltered a moment. How could he explain this in a way that wouldn't upset her? Heavens forbid she hexed him right now. Draco took a breath and looked directly into Épiphanie's eyes. "Yes, my dearest. It is—I should have done things differently, I know. I'm sorry that I deceived you. However, I meant what I said last night. You're so powerful, Épiphanie, that when I'm with you, I can't breathe. I touch the face of death with every orgasm and I love it, but I can also tell that there's something missing for you. I want to give that to you. I want to open you to a new level of sexual bliss and if I had to resort to Slytherin ways to manage that, then…"

"So, Pansy and—"

"No, never. Although, I did recently discover a most unlikely compatriot who helped me to sort my feelings regarding such a penchant and has been preparing me for the task and responsibility that it entails, I have never acted upon these desires—not until you. My darling, you are the most exquisite creature that I have ever had the pleasure of encountering. You've changed my life in so many ways. You've given me _real_ confidence. I was always taught that I had to present a certain type of person to the world. Soon, I found myself denying my true wants and needs and crafting a persona that wasn't really me, but there was an element of pleasure there in being able to truly control a situation. But then came the war—living with Lucius—I was forced into becoming a Death Eater, and I was terrified that if anyone were to discover such a predilection, the Dark Lord would exploit that. I do not enjoy inflicting pain for the sake of harm. That is the sort of thing my dear deranged Aunt Bellatrix would do. All I want is to exact the pleasure that comes with dancing along that very…thin…line." Draco reached down into the water and took Épiphanie's ankles, drawing her legs apart, and moving closer to her. He pulled her to him, until they each had their legs about one another's waist, and he took her hands, still looking deeply into her dark eyes. "Ever since the day that I saw you dive fearlessly for your broom, I believed that you could understand that pleasure derived from dancing on the edge." He released her hands and pulled her into his embrace, casually running his pale hands down her back, tracing the curve of her hips and over her thighs until a barely audible sigh escaped her lips. "You can destroy me with a look. You could have done that last night, but you didn't. You acquiesced. Even after I gave you back your magic. Why?"

Épiphanie lowered her eyes and turned her head away. Draco captured her chin in his hand and turned her face back to his, moving closer, water splashing around them.

"Trust me," he whispered.

"I—it was—I was curious. The feeling was different, like—like that moment with Dean—and you watching me—like falling from my broom. Frightening and exhilarating all at once. But Draco—" she faltered.

"It was wrong of me to have sprung such a thing upon you without your consent. If it is not your will, let us never speak of this thing again."

"No—that's not what—I mean I—" she sighed. "That surge of magic, when it returned. I felt that awful murderous rage. I could have ki—really hurt you. Are you sure it's safe?"

"Are you saying that you would like to experience it again?" There was a look of incredulity and hope in his eyes.

"I don't want you to take my magic again, but—" she lowered her eyes, focusing on the line of the scar that crossed his chest. "I—yes—I would."

"Are you certain?" He touched his forehead to hers. "This thing—I don't want to go forward again without your consent, my love. It will become much more intense. I will never give you more than you can bear, but—"

"I'm sure." Épiphanie licked her lips and met his eyes. A slow smile spread across Draco's face. "You're wicked!" she said.

"Just you wait." He growled.


	6. A Test

_**Tethrippon is the Greek term for the Quadriga, which is depicted in the sculpture atop the Wellington Arch._

Draco, Ron and Harry sat in a bored huddle around a low table in a corner of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Épiphanie, Ginny and Hermione all stood at the counter with Madam Malkin and her assistant, excitedly examining fabric samples and design sketches. Ron slouched in his chair, occasionally shooting glares in Draco's direction.

"This is all your fault, Malfoy. I can't believe you talked us into this," he moaned.

"Well, it _is_ the social event of the holiday season, Weasley. As veterans of the war, it's high time you and Ginevra put in an appearance. To be perfectly honest, given your social standing since the war you are practically obligated to attend." Draco crossed his legs and ran his fingers over the crease in his slacks.

"We could always nip down to the Leaky Cauldron for drinks and come back. They'd never notice we were gone," Harry suggested. "Ron does it whenever Hermione wants to visit Flourish and Blotts." He smirked.

"I think not! Such plebian behavior. I shouldn't be surprised. However, a lady should never be abandoned by her escort, gentlemen. This is but a small consequence to be paid for the honor of being at the hand of the most beautiful witches at the ball. And speaking of which, Potter, I sincerely hope that your waltz has improved since the Triwizard Yule Ball."

"I can assure you, _Malfoy,_ that I have had quite enough of being embarrassed in your presence. Besides, Molly has made a point of ensuring that neither Ron, nor I shall disgrace the name of Weasley at the Sacred Twenty-Eight, especially with Ginevra upon my arm." Harry retorted.

"Well, that is certainly good to know." He checked his watch. "Épiphanie, my dearest." Draco studied his nails as he beckoned her. She turned immediately from her companions and moved to his side. He took her hand and guided her into his lap, stroking her hair gently. "Need I remind you that we have reservations at Tethrippon?" He curled his fingers in her hair and gave it just the slightest tug. However, it did not go unnoticed by his companions.

"Of course, my love." She closed her eyes for just a second, in response to the stimulus. "Perhaps the girls and I could make an appointment to consult with Madam Malkin later this week." She smiled, a smoldering look in her eyes, as she gazed upon him. Draco lightly kissed her shoulder and gestured for her to proceed. She gracefully left his lap and returned to the other women.

Harry and Ron leaned forward immediately.

"Bloody hell, mate! What was that?" Ron whispered suspiciously.

"Did you Imperious her?" Harry demanded.

"Don't be daft, Potter. Surely, you haven't forgotten the _last_ time she was subjected to such a thing. Besides, I'm certain you don't believe for a moment that I would attempt an unforgivable curse while in the company of _two_ Aurors." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Well then?" Ron pressed the issue.

"While I can appreciate the reason behind your concern for The Minister's daughter, Weasley, I do not wish to divulge the minutiae of our personal relationship. However, I can assure that it is mutually beneficial."

The three witches joined them, each holding a bundle of parchments rolled and tied with ribbons.

"It's about bloody time!" Ron declared, as they stood. "Three _hours_ just to select dress robes?"

"No, we've only selected designs to consider," said Ginny.

"Frankly, I'm surprised you and Harry didn't sneak down to the Leaky Cauldron for drinks," Hermione remarked. Ron's face went red and she gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I do hope to have a look at those sketches later, Ma bien-aimée." Draco said as Épiphanie tucked her roll of parchments into her handbag.

"Naturally, Dearest." She lowered her eyes and inclined her head. Hermione and Ginny looked at her curiously. Harry and Ron exchanged a dubious glance.

"Shall we?" Draco offered his arm. Épiphanie gripped it tightly. All of the couples turned and disapparated.

They appeared seconds later among a small copse of trees a few yards beyond the Wellington Arch. They touched their wands as they passed through the gates. The air around them shimmered, and when they reached the other side of the arch, they found themselves entering a lavishly appointed restaurant. The maître d' showed them to their table and the wizards attended the young witches to their seats. Draco adjusted his chair so that it was practically touching Épiphanie's. Hermione raised a brow and looked at Ron and Harry, who shrugged. Before she could inquire as to their behavior, the waiter arrived with amuse-bouche, consisting of scotch quail egg with a merguez coat, and poured a fine Riesling. They studied the menus, debating the offerings for a few minutes before summoning the waiter. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny gave their requests.

"I'll have the beef tenderloin and sautéed wild mushrooms," said Draco, without bothering to make eye contact with the waiter. "The Lady will have the coho salmon and haricots verts."

"Very good, sir." The waiter collected their menus and disapparated.

"Épiphanie, are you well?" asked Hermione.

"Of course, why?" she replied.

"Well, you seem a little—"

"Imperioused." Ginny finished her friend's statement. Épiphanie laughed.

"That's funny. You all remember that disastrously embarrassing incident with Bill in DADA?"

Draco took up his glass and swirled it, examining the liquid before he took an unhurried sip, his eyes resting on Épiphanie. "So, Harry, I understand that Theodore Nott has been extradited back to Britain."

"Yes, once a proper cell was fitted to prevent his escaping in his animagus form. If he thinks Azkaban will be preferable now that the dementors are no longer there, he will be sorely disappointed. Though, I suppose he should consider himself fortunate to have escaped the death chamber." Harry sipped his wine.

"Personally, I think Épiphanie should have been allowed to dispatch the lot of them herself," said Ron. "After all, she nearly brought down the entire castle singlehandedly—ouch, Hermione!"

Épiphanie was looking away from the group examining the moving scenes in the paintings that adorned the walls around the dining room. She noticed after a moment, that each painting depicted part of a chariot race. Though she suspected it might have been the funeral games of Patroclus, she was distracted from examining the action further by the light touch of Draco's fingers sliding up her thigh. The fold of the wrap skirt she wore, fell aside. She shuddered slightly and flicked her tongue over her lips. He whispered close to her ear.

"Just relax, love." He traced circles along the inside of her thigh and applied a bit of pressure. She shifted in her chair, parting her legs. He moved his hand higher on her thigh. She bit her lip.

"They're watching us, you know," he whispered.

"Yes."

He brushed his lips over her earlobe and turned his attention to his wine glass. Bereft of the warm hand that abandoned her leg, Épiphanie exhaled slowly and lifted her own glass to her lips.

 _What are you doing?_

 _Remain just as you are for now._

"Are you sure you're alright?" Ginny asked.

"Of course!" Épiphanie smiled at her.

Their main courses appeared on the table and they were distracted momentarily from the odd behavior of the couple, indulging in the delicious meals before them.

"Corbin sent me an owl with the list of available free agents and possible transfers." Harry cut a neat slice from his sirloin. "I know it may be time to get new glasses, but I couldn't _possibly_ have seen Alasdair Maddock's name on that list, could I?"

"You are not mistaken, Potter—though your spectacles could certainly use replacing," Draco replied, spearing a mushroom slice with his fork.

"You can't be serious!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Ha! Even Falmouth doesn't want him!" Ron exclaimed.

"I thought he was playing Reserve Chaser for Bigonville, over in Luxembourg," said Épiphanie.

"That was until he was spotted purchasing tickets for the muggle World Cup," Ginny put in.

"What's wrong with him enjoying muggle sports?" Hermione asked, her tone defensive.

"There's nothing _wrong_ with it, Hermione. I head down to the muggle pub just up the road to watch football on the telly all the time."

"But the fool tried to incorporate muggle sports maneuvers into Quidditch. He cost the Magpies the win over the Kestrels last year," added Ron.

"And the other players threatened to—" Épiphanie's voice hitched. There was the subtle pressure of Draco's hand between her legs. Her meal companions looked at her expectantly.

 _Keep talking._

"Th-the other players threatened to walk if he wasn't cut." Épiphanie hastily lifted her glass to her lips.

 _Well done!_

Hermione grimaced. Why were _all_ of her closest friends Quidditch professionals and Quidditch fans? Just once, she'd like to be a part of a conversation that wasn't about sports. She savored her vegetable risotto and looked around the table. Ginny, Ron and Harry were engaged in a lively debate about the Hogwarts teams now. Draco seemed intent to focus on his plate while Épiphanie's meal appeared largely untouched. She wore a slightly vacant expression and her eyelids were glazed and heavy. What was going on with her?

Draco's long nimble fingers reached their destination. Épiphanie fought to keep her face neutral. She focused on his thoughts. A single finger slipped under the elastic of her panties.

 _May I?_

 _Yes, dearest._

He touched her there, and she bit her lip. Draco snapped his fingers and a waiter appeared to refill his glass. He lifted it to his lips as he allowed his mind to take them back to revisit that decadent encounter.

 _Draco lazily dragged his tongue down her torso._

He applied subtle pressure and began moving his fingers around in a circle, teasing it. Épiphanie pursed her lips, her eyelids lowering.

 _Eyes open. You're already beginning to come undone, aren't you? Naughty little dragonfly! I shudder to think what might happen if I let you see what I_ really _want to do with you._

Épiphanie's eyes fluttered open. She adjusted the napkin in her lap over Draco's hand. He pinched her there and she drew in a sharp breath.

"Épiphanie, you _do_ look just a bit unwell. Perhaps we should forgo dessert," Hermione suggested.

"Hm, no. I'm fine, fine, Hermione. R-really." Épiphanie gripped her fork tightly and speared her vegetables. She chewed mechanically, not tasting anything.

 _His lips played about her navel, and he dragged his impeccably manicured fingernails down her skin._

The table began to vibrate. Draco moved his hand back to her thigh.

 _Oh, dear. We certainly have an audience now, don't we?_

Their companions had indeed all turned their attention to the couple. Ron, Ginny and Harry wore baffled expressions. Hermione's gaze was intensely curious.

 _Alas, now you shall have to wait until later._

" _Do_ calm yourself, love. Tethrippon is quite unaccustomed to such surges of magic." Draco idly turned the stem of his wine glass between his fingers as he spoke, appearing to take no notice of the expressions on the faces of their friends. "Surely, you couldn't have expected our house to retain its place in the Cup standings, given that they had to build a new team from scratch." He stroked her hair.

"Of-of course," she replied.

"But then again, we may take comfort in the fact that it is quite unlikely that Gryffindor will be retaining the Cup for another year, given that their dream team has also been decimated." He allowed a chuckle at the derisive glares that Harry, Ron and Ginny shot his way.

Suitably distracted, the group barely noticed that the table was once again still.

"I think I need to powder my nose," Hermione said. "Girls?" She and Ginny stood. Épiphanie hastily smoothed her skirt as she stood. Draco rose to his feet with customary grace and nodded to the ladies. Harry and Ron immediately followed suit.

"What in _Merlin's cauldron_ is going on with you, Épiphanie?" Hermione demanded as soon as they entered the ladies' lounge. She and Ginny stood side by side, with their arms folded.

" _Nothing!_ Why are you two looking at me like that?" Épiphanie gave them a look of pure affront.

"Really, Épiphanie! Ever since we left Madam Malkin's you've been acting strange," said Ginny.

"Exactly!" Hermione chimed in. "Why does he need to examine the sketches for your dress robes? Did he do that last year?"

"No, but—"

"And this business at the table—he whispers in your ear and suddenly it's like you've been imperioused!"

Épiphanie laughed out loud. "Guys, I'm fine. I don't mind sharing Madam Malkin's design drawings with Draco. I value his input. Besides, it's not like he'll select some hideous thing for me to wear. You know he's much too vain for that!"

"Look, Épiphanie, we haven't been friends with Draco for very long. Sometimes our old opinions creep back to the fore. You guys are so unbelievably intense together, it's kind of scary."

"Wait until Holyhead faces Wiltshire in January," Épiphanie teased. Ginny gave her a punch to the arm. While the glancing blow didn't affect her friend, Hermione winced at the way two such seemingly ladylike witches could behave like boys at the drop of a hat.

"Seriously, though, Épiphanie. None of what you said explains what I saw going on across the table and why you nearly levitated it." She pressed the issue.

"Oh, my gawd! Doesn't Ron ever tease you with a wicked little bit of smut every now and then?" Épiphanie raised a brow. At that moment, a very prim-looking white-haired witch emerged from the stalls. She drew in a sharp breath and gave them all a disapproving look before exiting. Épiphanie looked from the old witch to Hermione to find the same appalled expression on her friend's face, and she began to laugh. Ginny snorted.

" _Draco?_ Mr. Aristocracy and 'Class', talking dirty in the middle of a high society restaurant? Fred was right—you really do have to watch the rich ones!"

"Well, if everything you guys have told me about the seven years before I met you is true, then I think my man is entitled to a bit of under-the-table debauchery every now and then, don't you?" She winked. "Hermione, _darling,_ " Épiphanie put on her best imitation of Draco's posh drawl. "Do stop gawking. It's _quite_ frowned upon here at Tethrippon."

The tall Slytherin scowled and looked down her nose at her friend. She was unsuccessful at keeping a straight face, and began to giggle. Ginny joined her, and finally Hermione's resolve cracked and the trio exploded with laughter.

"The very _idea_ of Draco ever calling me _darling!_ " Hermione exclaimed.

"Oh, you're right, you're right! Wait, wait! Okay, here we go—' _Really,_ Granger! Such plebian behavior is _quite_ frowned upon here. This _is_ Tethrippon after all." The trio of witches howled with laughter.

"We should make some time to create a scouting team. Corbin's responsibilities are spreading him thin. I'd like to visit Hogwarts ahead of the Cup to personally take a look at the prospects. How does your schedule look, Harry?" Draco lifted a forkful of tarte tatin.

"Draco, seriously, what are you up to with Épiphanie?" Harry leaned across the table, lowering his voice. "She didn't just levitate the table for no reason."

Draco sighed with exasperation. "It really isn't any of your business, Harry. Besides, if I told you, Weasley here would probably faint dead away." He tossed his hair and Ron gave him a baleful look.

"Look, what you do to Épiphanie has a butterfly effect for the rest of us. I'm _quite_ happy with the state of my relations with Hermione, thank-you-very-much. I'd like to keep it that way."

"Well then, perhaps I _should_ share with you, Weasley. A bit of debauchery never hurt anyone, even a noble Gryffindor. You never know, it might get Granger to relax a bit." Draco grinned wickedly.

Ron's face became redder than his hair. "Wait! You mean, you—" he stammered.

Harry chuckled. Draco continued to savor his dessert, unruffled. The girls returned to the table, and their companions stood, assisting them to their seats.

"I thought we might have to send out a search party for you ladies," said Harry as they sat.

"Girl talk," replied Ginny. She cast a glance at her friends. Hermione blushed and Épiphanie twisted her lips into a mischievous grin.

Draco's hand went immediately to his companion's hair, stroking it gently. He twined his fingers about the curls and gave a gentle, but insistent tug that urged her head back just enough to admire the graceful curve of her slender neck. Épiphanie took a deep breath and cast her gaze upon the coffered ceiling above. She swam into Draco's consciousness.

 _They're very suspicious now, aren't they?_

Draco inclined his head and whispered in her ear. " _Furari_ _Spiritus._ " He touched the wand tucked inside his robes. Épiphanie gasped. She was suddenly unable to draw breath. Her eyes widened and she tried to drop her chin, but his fist tightened in her hair, and he forced her to remain in the position. She clenched her fists and dropped them from the table, clenching her skirt. Spots floated in her vision and the room began to spin. Between her legs, she felt herself clench with excitement.

 _Finite!_ He released her hair.

She inhaled sharply as her lungs filled with air, her heart hammering in her chest. Draco began to stroke her hair again. She pressed her eyes closed to stop the spinning sensation. When her vision cleared and the room was no longer swimming around her, she noticed four pairs of eyes resting upon her in alarm. Hermione was half out of her chair, wand in hand.

" _Really,_ Granger! Such plebian behavior is _quite_ frowned upon here. This _is_ Tethrippon after all." Draco raised his brow, leveling an exasperated gaze at her, and signaled for the waiter. "Coffee, ma chère?"

"Yes, please."

Hermione, sank to her seat wearing a scandalized expression. When the waiter had poured her coffee, Épiphanie kept her gaze on her friend as she lifted the delicate cup to her lips and she gave her a wink. Harry and Ron watched the entire scene with unease as Ginny looked on, pressing her lips tightly together, unsuccessfully stifling a giggle.


	7. A Binding Agreement

_**I was inspired to make the reference to Cair Paravel and Narnia after seeing an illustration of the Pevensie children imagined as Hogwarts founders. Otherwise, there is no crossover._

Épiphanie stepped out onto the dew-covered grass from the training rooms and surveyed the pitch. The sun had just made its presence known above the trees that made up the exterior of Dragon Grove Arena and she was grateful to have the place to herself. She spent a few minutes stretching before she began to jog around the perimeter of the pitch. She picked up speed and enjoyed the feel of her working muscles as her feet pounded the earth. The dragons painted on the sand that delineated the scoring zones at each end of the field beat their wings and roared silently as she rounded the base of the high goal posts.

After she had completed about five laps, Épiphanie stopped to catch her breath. She paced back and forth outside of the training rooms, shaking out her limbs and was about to leave the pitch to take advantage of the weight training equipment that she'd convinced Harry and Draco to include during the design of the facilities, when she got the distinct impression that she was being watched. She bent down under the guise of tying her shoes and drew her wand from the leg of her running tights. He was sitting beneath one of the VIP towers, so still that she nearly missed him, but for the white-blond hair.

Draco did not move or flinch when she apparated beside him.

"Good morning, Dragonfly." His voice was cool as he spoke and he kept his gaze fixed upon the pitch below them. Épiphanie examined him. There was something about his appearance that was strikingly different. She was accustomed to seeing him in muggle clothing by now, but for the most part, Draco only wore such apparel when they ventured outside of the magical world or when relaxing together in private. It was rare to find him so casually dressed even then. If he was to be outside of his home, Draco preferred bespoke apparel from Savile Row tailors like Henry Poole, Gieves & Hawkes, or Huntsman, just as he did with his wizarding robes which he purchased almost exclusively from Twilfit & Tattings. The man sitting beside her wore a simple white cotton oxford with the cuffs turned back. His blue jeans were slightly faded and paired with paddock boots. She noticed that his hair had been freshly trimmed, but his trademark ponytail was braided and tied at the end with a leather cord.

She looked at him curiously.

"You stalking me?" she asked, a grin playing at the corner of her lips.

"As a matter of fact, I am." He looked at her finally. "I have something I would like to share with you," he said. "Will you go with me?" Draco held out his hand. The moment she grasped his fingers, Épiphanie felt the familiar pressing in from all sides.

They landed in a darkened hallway. She could tell that they were in the Manor, but this was a part of the grand house that she had not before entered. Draco did not drop her hand, nor did he speak as he led her down the corridor. Sconces lit themselves along the wall as they walked, and Épiphanie was aware that the figures in most of the portraits were ancestors who wore grim expressions and scowled, if they bothered to acknowledge their presence at all.

Draco moved with purpose until he reached a room about three-quarters of the way down the hall. The double doors swung open as they approached. The deep forest-green silk draperies were drawn open and the morning sun streamed through the tall arched windows. An ornate bed dominated the chamber, draped in identical fabric. Carved dragons climbed the bedposts and the Malfoy coat of arms adorned the footboard.

Épiphanie took in the heavy, imposing furniture in the room. She looked expectantly at Draco.

"Brutus Malfoy had the current Manor house constructed. These chambers belonged to his personal courtesan. When I was a boy, my friends and I would play up here, and hide from my parents' lavish parties filled with preening purebloods and their sycophants, but that's not why we are here."

Draco produced a delicate bouquet of honeysuckle ringed with lily of the valley. She couldn't help but observe that the stems were tied with the same leather cord as the one in his hair. She reached out to take the bouquet, but he took her hand.

"Do you trust me, love?" His voice was soft, but there was something there—an edge that said this was a significant query.

Épiphanie looked at him inquisitively. He furrowed his brow, a sign she had come to recognize as him actively closing himself off from her attempts at legilimency. She took a breath and decided to give him the opportunity to reveal himself in his own way.

"Yes."

Draco flicked his wand and the massive wardrobe on the far wall swung open. He crossed to it and beckoned for Épiphanie to follow. She hesitated.

"Are we going to end up at Cair Paravel?" she asked with a smirk. Draco paused, one foot up into the opening, and turned to her aghast.

"My gods, woman! Cair Paravel has been destroyed! Why would we go there?"

Now it was Épiphanie's turn to wear an expression of shock. "Wait! You mean—it's _real?_ "

"Of course it's real! And only _one person_ has ever returned from Narnia in recent history!"

"He—you mean? –but—"

"This is only the entrance to one of the many secret passages in the Manor, my love. You said that you trust me." Draco stepped up into the wardrobe and held out his hand. She hesitated a moment more, but there again was that edge—this time in his eyes. Épiphanie took his hand and stepped up into the wardrobe.

With a swish of his wand, the doors of the wardrobe swung closed behind them and the back wall melted away, revealing a narrow corridor with ebony paneling.

" _Lumos!_ " Draco lit his wand and Épiphanie followed him down the passageway until they reached an ornately carved door which opened at the sound of his voice.

She followed him into a modestly-sized room and looked around. The walls were upholstered in tufted black leather and the floor was stone. There were no furnishings, no fireplace, yet the room was comfortably warm. The candles of a multi-tiered chandelier sprang to life with a quiet whoosh as they entered.

Draco placed the bouquet on the floor and took both of Épiphanie's hands in his. He looked directly into her eyes, and she saw the cool grey shimmer like steel in the candlelight.

"The passion that we have undertaken requires trust—that I will protect you and not abuse the consent that you have freely given. Thus far I have titillated your senses and tried your tractability under the intense scrutiny of those whose opinions we hold in the highest regard." Draco released her grasp and took her face into his hands, brushing his thumb over her lips. He leaned in and kissed her lightly.

Épiphanie felt the magical energy vibrating between them and her pulse quickened. Draco caressed her face, and traced his hands over the curve of her neck. He circled around her and took her braid into his hand, pressing his nose to her hair and inhaling deeply. She shifted, to turn to him, but he stopped her. His breath was warm against the back of her neck.

"I want to take you to that fine line where pain becomes pleasure and magic is all-consuming. I do not wish your exclusive possession, only that you freely accept my dominion to provide you the most erotic vagaries, to elicit fervent ardor with only a word—a gesture of the wand—a look. Your acceptance is your trust. I do not take that for granted, my love."

Épiphanie exhaled slowly and her eyelids were heavy as she listened to him speak. Despite the comfort of the room and the sweatshirt she wore, she shivered. Her emotions were not lost on Draco. He brushed his lips over her earlobe, stroking her hair.

"Do you trust me?" he asked again.

"Yes," she breathed.

"May I have your wand?" he whispered. She hesitated for only the briefest moment. After all, she knew he was well aware that she did not require it. She handed it over. "I shall return it when we are finished." Draco kissed the back of her neck and gave her shoulders a squeeze, pressing upon them. "On your knees, my love."

Épiphanie complied. It was then that she took notice of the bouquet once more. She reached out a hand for it.

"Patience, my dearest." Draco flicked his wand and the bouquet leapt into his hands. He circled around slowly as he spoke. "This is no ordinary bouquet of flowers. Honeysuckle and Maialis fall under the dominion of Mercury, intercessor between mortals and the divine, patron of athletics, god of transitions and boundaries, bearer of the _caduceus._ " He stood in front of her now. "Twined together, the vines of the honeysuckle bind two lovers, ensuring fidelity and desire. Winsome in appearance and intoxicating in fragrance, the Lily of the Valley—the harbinger of contentment's resurrection, hawthorn's sister, and icon of femininity—is deadly to any who underestimates it." He released the flowers, and they hovered in the air between them. "The choice is entirely yours, Dragonfly. If you accept this offering, you bind yourself to me, consenting to my protection and accepting my will. Look at me." His voice was firm. "You will be no less than you have always been. You are heaven in my eyes. I desire your trust and your _willing_ submission. I will accept nothing less."

Draco stood patiently, his expression cool and unremarkable. The elegant bouquet suspended in expectation. Suddenly, Épiphanie was unsure of herself. She bit her lip. She wanted it. She wanted to give herself to Draco, to hear the rhythm of two hearts pounding hard as talking drums in a Senufu cadence. To be wrapped in spirit, echoing once over through another in embrace—to keep time with lust, passion, pleasure and pain. She took a breath and took the bouquet.

Draco expelled a breath that he was unaware that he was holding in. He felt weak in the knees and his wand hand rose of its own accord. He pointed the two wands at Épiphanie.

" _Erit Ligatum!_ " A bright pink light streamed forth and wound itself about Épiphanie. " _Ligare Nos!_ " A green light streamed forth, and also coiled itself about her before both streams of light twined themselves together and coiled about Draco as well. The bands of light sank into the pair and disappeared.

Épiphanie reached a hand to her throat and found a slender collar of pure silver and inlaid with a single pearl. Draco held out his hand to her and she took it, noting the band on his little finger, also set with a single pearl. When she was standing, he hooked a finger into the choker and drew her to him.

"This circle has no end. There is no clasp. It cannot be removed without severing this bond. It is the same with mine." His lips brushed hers as he spoke, and Épiphanie flushed. He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her hungrily.

Épiphanie felt faint. Something had shifted in the way Draco kissed her. His touch was electrifying. She could feel his pulse and her heartbeat matched it. He nipped her bottom lip and led her out of the chamber. When they stepped out of the wardrobe, Draco swept Épiphanie into his arms and apparated her to his own suite of rooms. He drew a bath in the copper tub and bade her relax until he returned.

He went to his desk and took a fresh piece of parchment and one of the fountain pens that Épiphanie had gifted him for his last birthday.

 _Good Sir,_

 _It is done, and she has accepted the offering._

 _DM_

Draco sealed the parchment and summoned his owl to deliver the note.


	8. A Little Turn About the Floor

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley stood with Hermione's father, all wearing expressions of amusement as they watched the three young wizards pacing at the foot of the grand staircase of The Minister's residence awaiting their dates for the evening. Ron and Harry wore Auror dress robes—leather breeches and jerkins with silver buttons and brocade doublets bearing the insignia of the Ministry of Magic upon the breast. Their capes bore heavily embroidered trim and Harry wore a sash indicating his award of Order of Merlin First Class. The shimmering dragonfly brocade woven into Draco's waistcoat and the jeweled insects attached to the cuffs of his emerald green robes ensured that he hardly faded in comparison to his companions.

The older men chuckled quietly at the looks of awe on the faces of the younger wizards when the girls finally descended the stairs accompanied by their mothers. Hermione was elegant in robes of scarlet with a tiered underskirt, her hair, smoothed straight with the help of Angelique and swept away from her face with an ornate pin. Ginny was radiant in amethyst robes trimmed in silver, her hair pinned in an elegant French twist. Épiphanie wore an iridescent fabric reminiscent of the blue-green colors of a dragonfly. The ephemeral winged creatures were embroidered along the trim of the plunging neckline and the sleeves of the fitted dupioni silk robes. She wore her hair in a single side-swept five-strand braid that fell gracefully over her shoulder.

Neighbors and passersby on the street gazed in admiration and awe at the trio of couples emerging from Number 3 The Boltons as they made their way to the waiting carriages on the street.

"Oh, how _lovely!_ …They must be attending a fancy dress ball! ...How elegant! …I wonder who's hosting _their_ ball! …Goodness, don't those young men look so gallant!"

"Oh, this is better than the Yule Ball!" Hermione exclaimed as the witches took seats in the reception room while their escorts chatted a few yards away.

"That's because you're actually dancing _with_ Ron," Ginny pointed out. "And he managed not to step on any skirts during the quadrille!" she giggled.

"Well, Harry is certainly dashing, _Miss_ Weasley!" Hermione teased. "Still, I wasn't prepared for how quiet it seemed to get for a moment when the major domo announced us."

"I wonder whether it was because the Weasleys have never attended the ball, or because no one expected The-Boy-Who-Lived to be in attendance," said Ginny.

"Especially consorting with the likes of Draco Malfoy," Épiphanie put in.

"Definitely!" replied Hermione. "Is that Neville he's talking to?"

They all turned in the direction that Hermione indicated. Draco and Neville stood apart from Harry and Ron, heads bent in an intense and animated conversation.

"Since when did those two become so chatty?" remarked Ginny.

"And what on earth could those two possibly be discussing so intently?" Hermione wondered aloud.

"I wouldn't have any idea. Herbology and potions do go hand in hand though, and the Malfoy Apothecary is still Draco's most significant source of income. Maybe it's business." Épiphanie surmised.

The master of ceremonies announced a waltz. Ron and Harry escorted Hermione and Ginny to the floor.

"Where's Malfoy?" Ron asked, as they took up positions.

Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Épiphanie still seated where they'd left her, when Neville approached her with a bow and offered his hand.

"Omigod, Ron! Look!" Hermione exclaimed.

Ron craned his neck, shocked to see Neville take up a position on the floor with Épiphanie, while Draco escorted Hannah Abbott to the floor. "But Hannah can't _stand_ Malfoy!"

"She must be doing it for Neville," said Hermione as the music started.

"Draco's up to something."

"Épiphanie thinks it's just business."

"Longbottom's a _teacher!_ What business could he have with Malfoy?"

"You do have a point. Hmm."

"Does Épiphanie seem different to you?" Ginny asked, as Harry turned her about the dance floor.

"What do you mean?"

"Honestly, Harry. Sometimes it's hard to believe you're an Auror. I mean, has her demeanor seemed to change?"

"Well, now that you mention it, she does seem much less effusive, I guess."

"Exactly! She seems to defer to Draco much more than in the past. Before, he was fawning over her. Remember the necklace she wore last year?"

"Of course. I gave it to him, remember?"

"Oh, right. But this year, all she's wearing is a plain choker. Did I tell you that Draco was with her when we went back for our final fittings at Madam Malkin's?"

"He was?"

"Yes. She asked his approval for _everything._ "

"Well, Draco's like that. Appearances matter to him. Maybe she's flattered that he dotes on her like that. Is that the sort of thing you'd like me to do?" Harry asked.

"It's not really necessary, Harry. Being the only girl in a house of boys, I've had quite enough of being 'looked after'. But I really appreciate that you paid for the dresses."

"No, I didn't. I was meaning to ask you about that. I stopped by Madam Malkin's and she said that your bill had been settled. I assumed that George paid for it. That reminds me, I need to stop by the shop and settle up."

"George didn't pay for my robes, Harry. Madam Malkin said that _all_ of the dress bills had been settled. George couldn't have afforded my dress _and_ Hermione's, even with the holiday sales. I overheard him telling Ron that he might be able to chip in about 100 galleons apiece for our dresses. I had planned upon using my signing bonus to cover the balance. Do you think Malfoy bought the dresses?"

"Well, if Épiphanie didn't pay for her dress either—which she certainly has the means to do—then clearly Malfoy is your benefactor. I can't imagine why he would do that. I'd told Ron that I would help him cover the cost of Hermione's dress." The waltz came to an end, and the master of ceremonies announced that the hour was upon them.

All of the guests moved to the floor as he counted the remaining seconds of the year. At the stroke of midnight, they all raised their wands and lit the air with sparkles and miniature explosions before lining up for the cotillion.


	9. Bound to You

_**Pocketful of Posies**_

The air rippled with the thunder of bass that echoed out into the alleyway where a queue had formed that snaked out to the sidewalk beyond. The clubgoers waiting at the curb looked on with curiosity at the Rolls Royce that pulled up to the curb. The driver opened the door and a tall light-skinned black girl with wavy hair stepped out. She was followed by two more women—a redhead and another girl with long bushy hair—and three young men—a tall redhead, whom some speculated might have been related to his ginger counterpart, a guy with black hair that seemed to have something of a mind of its own and a lean pale man with hair so blond that it was practically white.

It was the blond and the black girl who were the most striking pair of the group. While the first two couples were dressed as if they stepped off of a runway in Milan, this couple had a style all of their own that said "fuck conventionality."

She wore a white ruffled blouse with a high neck and a fitted vest of silver brocade beneath a green velvet trench coat that hugged her curves and boasted ornate silver buttons down both lapels. Black leather pants and riding boots completed her ensemble. Her companion wore a similar look. He wore a silver cravat with a white silk shirt and green waistcoat. His silver-gray velvet trench was identical to hers in shape and cut, but boasted dragons embroidered along his back. Several of the females in the line ogled his lean legs and tight ass in his leather pants and motorcycle boots as he strode past, his coattails lifting slightly in his wake. They nudged one another and pointed at his flowing blond hair, their companions throwing him looks of derision.

"What does he think he is?" one man muttered under his breath.

"Steampunk," said the girl with him.

"What?" he looked at her curiously.

"Haven't you ever read _The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?_ " she asked impatiently. "I wonder if they're models. He's awfully dishy!"

The guard drew back the velvet rope and admitted the three couples to the club's interior.

"Welcome to Club Nightshade. Take the stairs up to the VIP level," he said.

Épiphanie and Draco followed Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny up a spiral staircase to a glass-enclosed room that overlooked the large dancefloor of the club. Neville and Hannah were seated with Dean Thomas in a large banquette that wrapped the wall at the far end of the room. Ice buckets with bottles of champagne were placed on the low table in front of them.

"Well, no one ever accused you guys of standing out in a crowd!" Dean exclaimed, rising from his seat and clasping Draco's hand. He gave Épiphanie a light peck on the cheek.

"You look amazing!" said Hannah. Épiphanie didn't fail to notice the silver band around Hannah's neck and her fingers floated up to her own as Neville helped her out of her coat, one hand surreptitiously trailing down her spine.

"A corset!" he said in a voice just low enough for her to hear over the music without their friends taking notice. "Lovely!"

"Thank you, sir." She smiled and slid into Draco's lap, accepting the glass of champagne he offered her.

"Dean, this place is _incredible!_ " Hermione exclaimed. "And there's no magic?"

"It's well hidden. All the staff are either witches and wizards or muggles who have mages in their families. Makes it easier to hide from the muggle patrons, and we don't have to explain to anyone why they can't work on 'wizards only' nights. We've applied to the Ministry for a portal to Diagon Alley. The back side of the club, where we have the outdoor bar, backs up to the south side right next to Ollivander's."

"That's brilliant! Good luck!" Harry exclaimed.

"It would drive up wizarding traffic from those who aren't comfortable moving about muggle London. Knowing your marketplace and exploiting it is always a good business decision," said Draco.

"Okay, not that this isn't absolutely stimulating conversation, but I want to dance!" Ginny declared. She pulled Harry to his feet and pushed open a door that led out to a balcony and another spiral staircase which went directly to the dance floor. The others followed and soon they were all caught up in the pulsing mass of bodies moving to the music.

Sweaty and breathless, Draco and Épiphanie left the dance floor in search of refreshment. Draco went to the bar for drinks while Épiphanie took a quick trip to the Ladies'. She stumbled when she emerged, nearly bowling Neville over as he entered the dimly lit corridor with its walls papered in advertisements and concert bills. He took her elbow to keep her from falling into a large sculpture.

"Sorry about that, Neville!" she exclaimed.

"It's no problem." He smiled, backing her up against the wall. "You're a fantastic dancer," he said.

"Thank you." Épiphanie lowered her eyes. She placed her hands on the wall, unsure of how to react to Neville's closeness.

"The mural behind the bar is quite impressive. The enchantress and the messenger of her immortal beloved." He fingered her collar.

"Dean certainly has an eye," she said.

"Indeed."

"Neville, I was wondering—"

"What the _hell?"_

They looked up to see a shocked and red-faced Ron emerging from the Men's lounge. Épiphanie's shoulder's sagged and she tried to step away, but Neville had his arm on the wall with no intention of moving it, and the sculpture blocked her from the other side.

"Neville, what are you playing at? Épiphanie!"

"Ron, it's not—" she started, pushing Neville. He didn't budge. Ron strode up to them, his wand hand reaching into his pocket.

"What the fuck?" he demanded.

"Ron, there are _muggles_ here!" Épiphanie declared.

"So, what? Do you think _Malfoy_ would care about that if he saw the two of you like this?"

A wand appeared out of nowhere at Ron's throat and Draco was behind him grabbing his wand hand.

"Draco is _standing_ right here, and does not want to cause a scene in his mates' club, as I am sure you would agree, Auror Weasley!" Draco spoke close to his ear. "Let's everyone put our wands away before Dean and Seamus have security throw us out. I assure you, everything is fine, Ronald. Why don't you go and buy a round for everyone?" Draco removed his wand and pressed a wad of bills into Ron's hand, clapping him on the shoulder.

Draco stepped back and Ron eyed the trio with suspicion. Épiphanie looked nervous. Neville wore an expression of benign amusement and Draco's face wore the same mask of sinister cautiousness that he remembered seeing on Lucius' countenance on more than one occasion.

"Dragonfly." Draco held out his hand to Épiphanie as Seamus switched the music to a heavy reggae dancehall beat. Neville dropped his hand and she stepped away from him. As they turned away, Neville grabbed Draco by the wrist. He pulled him back and spoke low in his ear. Draco looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded, before pulling Épiphanie with him onto the dance floor.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked when Ron returned to the VIP area and slumped into the booth beside her.

"You won't believe what—" He stopped short when he realized that Hannah was sitting nearby. "I'll tell you later," he muttered.

Neville returned to the room and drew Hannah into his lap, stroking her hair. Hermione looked from Neville to Ron, who scowled at him as he drank his beer. Draco pulled Épiphanie into his lap, as they took a seat next to Neville a few minutes later. He played with her collar, nuzzling her neck as he stroked her hair. Hermione watched the two couples with interest. She shot a glance at Ginny, who raised a questioning brow.

"Do you see that?" Ginny nudged Harry.

"What?" He turned away from the conversation he was having with Dean and looked over at the two couples on the other end of the banquette. He chuckled. "I wonder if they even know that they're doing it."

"Looks like Neville's got another one," Seamus said as he bounced into the room.

"What?"

"Nothing," said Dean, drawing Seamus into his lap. He gave him a peck on the cheek and began whispering urgently in his ear. Seamus nodded.

"So, gang! How d'ya like the place?"

"It's brilliant, mate!" said Harry.

"We've already been able to pay back the initial investment. Me Mam was over the moon! She was convinced I'd be destitute an' beggin' on the streets o' Dublin wearing spandex hot pants!" he laughed.

"What are hot pants?" asked Neville.

"What's spandex?" asked Ron.

"Nothing that we _ever_ want to see Seamus wearing!" Épiphanie snorted.

"I can think of a few things I'd rather not see my mates getting up to," Ron muttered, still glaring at Neville.

Ginny looked from her brother to Neville, who seemed unperturbed as he spoke close to Draco's ear.

Ron was first out of the limousine when it arrived outside of 12 Grimmauld Place. He stalked into the house and nearly roused Mrs. Black, had Hermione not caught the door before it slammed against the wall. She jogged to catch up with him in the lounge where he was already pouring a glass of firewhiskey.

"Ronald! If you get buggered tonight, you're sleeping alone!" she announced. "What happened?"

"What's going on?" Harry asked as he entered the room, removing his jacket. Ginny stepped in a moment later.

"Neville! Bloody, fucking Neville!" Ron fumed.

"What about Neville, mate?"

"I was coming out of the loo and found him pressed up against Épiphanie in the hallway!"

" _Neville?"_ Hermione's face was a mask of disbelief. "No way!"

"Draco would have slaughtered him!" Harry laughed.

"But he _didn't!"_ Ron exclaimed, pouring another drink. Hermione took the glass away from him.

"You mean he was _there_?" Ginny was aghast.

"He walked up at some point as I was confronting them. Put his wand to my fucking throat and told me to back off!"

"What?"

"Said we were making a scene and said _everything was fine!_ Actually gave me money and suggested I buy a round! Since when are he and Neville best mates?"

"Well, what did Épiphanie have to say while all this was going on?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, she looked like she wanted to apparate right out of there, but Neville had her pinned against the wall. Didn't move until Draco reached out for her. Neville stood there grinning like a bleedin' kneazle the whole time!"

"He didn't say _anything?"_ Harry knitted his brow.

"Well, just as Draco and Épiphanie started to walk away, he grabbed Draco by the wrist and said something to him, but they were very close and I couldn't hear what it was. I think he wanted something, because Draco looked like he was thinking about it, then he nodded before they went out to the dance floor."

"Ron, are you absolutely certain of what you saw? Maybe Neville was just talking to her about—" Ginny began.

"No, Ginny. He was _entirely_ too close to her. Had his hand practically in her blouse!" Ron insisted.

"Something odd is definitely up. They were both awfully demonstrative, holding them in their laps, stroking their hair the same way." Hermione was thoughtful.

"Aw, come on guys. I think you're making too much of this. It's likely just a series of coincidences. Didn't you see Dean and Seamus do practically the same thing?" Harry interjected. "Some couples are just more intimate than others. I think we all have much more important things to concentrate on these days than how our friends and their partners get on. The way that Draco treated Neville in school, I personally think it's great that they get along now. Épiphanie's a big girl and a powerful enough witch to take care of herself. Let's just stay out of it."

Draco and Épiphanie entered the grand foyer at Antares Hall just as Neville, Hannah, Dean and Seamus apparated into the water garden between the kitchen and natatorium. Diggy led them up to the reception room where Draco whispered something to the elf. It disappeared and returned momentarily with a small wooden box. Draco took it and placed it on a side table beside the sofa.

"Doesn't The Minister of Magic live in this street?" Neville asked, leveling a measured gaze at Épiphanie. He took a seat on one end of the art deco sofa that faced the fireplace, one arm draped across the back, and his legs crossed. Hannah settled at his feet, resting her head against his thigh.

"On the opposite crescent," she replied. "But keep that on the low, y'all. He doesn't know Draco has a house here, and I'd like to keep it that way." She joined Draco, who also sat on the sofa, and he pulled her feet into his lap.

Dean sat in a deep club chair beside the fireplace and Seamus crawled into his lap, straddling him. Dean stroked his thighs.

"So what was Weasley on about?" Seamus asked. He rocked his hips against Dean's, sliding his hands under his shirt.

"Neville?" Draco looked at him.

"Ron reckoned that the physical proximity of our bodies as we talked was far too intimate." Neville stroked a hand over Hannah's hair.

"Does he know anything about us?" Dean asked. His eyes were closed and he slouched in his chair with his head back. One hand rested on Seamus' ass.

"No. Neither do the others."

"They have their suspicions though. Hermione and Ginny confronted me about it that day we first got fitted for our dress robes. You know, at Tethrippon?" Épiphanie said as Draco removed her boots. She wriggled her feet around, pointing and flexing her toes. Draco chuckled, capturing her feet once again.

"Ah, yes! You never had an opportunity to enjoy your salmon." He kissed her ankles.

"You didn't!" Seamus exclaimed. He stopped massaging Dean's chest, and stared excitedly at her. Dean snapped his fingers.

"Oi, focus! Nobody told you to stop." He narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. Seamus turned his attention back to Dean, grinding against him as he moved his hands over his torso.

"A bit of a surreptitious tease is certainly fortuitous when your sub is a legilimens." Draco winked.

"So how long have you and Seamus been together, Dean? With all that was going on, I hadn't realized until school was nearly out that you two were a couple," asked Épiphanie.

"Well, we didn't really get together until after the war, what with me dropping out of school and being on the run and all." He ran his fingers through Seamus' hair. Épiphanie thought she felt Draco stiffen slightly at Dean's mention of the war. She wondered how Draco and Dean were connected in that regard, but didn't ponder it for very long as a movement caught her eye. Neville's fingertips were idly playing in Draco's hair.

"…and before that, there was the whole affair with a certain ginger on the Gryffindor Quidditch team who shall remain nameless," Seamus added, leaning down to kiss him. Dean tightened his hold on Seamus hair and pulled his head back sharply.

"Careful, my sweet," he warned. Seamus growled in response. Dean released him. "You're incorrigible, you know." Seamus pressed his lips to Dean's.

"Have you ever been with a woman, Épiphanie?" Hannah asked.

"I—uh haven't been with anyone except Draco," she replied sheepishly.

"Aww, that's so sweet! Malfoy popped the Minister's Daughter! Some guys have all the luck!" Dean teased.

"Sod off, Thomas. You're just jealous."

"Of whom? You…or her?" Neville teased. Épiphanie looked at him curiously.

"Maybe both," Dean replied with a shrug and a wink. They laughed.

"So, how did—how did you all get into this?" Épiphanie asked.

"Neville," everyone replied.

"Not me," said Dean. "But he did help me with Seamus' first time."

"What about you, Épiphanie?" asked Seamus. He settled into Dean's lap with his head on his shoulder. "What was your posy?"

"Honeysuckle and Lily of the Valley. What about you?"

"Acacia and Black Poplar," Seamus blushed. "Hannah?"

"Cherry Blossom, Lady Slipper, and white wallflower."

"Aren't you going to ask Draco what was in his nosegay?" Neville asked. He moved his hand from the back of the sofa and his fingers sought out and began to lightly draw circles on the back of Draco's hand, which was resting between them.

"Wait—what?" Épiphanie sat up, looking from him to Draco. "I thought that—why would Neville ask you to submit to him?"

"First, tell her what your flowers were," said Neville.

"White poppy, scarlet pimpernel, tuberose, and harebell." Draco's voice was soft and reflective. "Bound with grass."

"Consolation, change, some dangerous pleasures…submission—all of the things that he was in need of that day, when he got sick on me outside of the potions dungeon." Neville took Draco's hand, and the Slytherin moved closer to the Gryffindor. Épiphanie looked on curiously.

Neville touched Hannah's shoulder and she got up, moving to the sofa, where she sat down on the other end and took Épiphanie into her arms. Épiphanie looked at Draco, who only kissed her fingers and gently pushed her in Hannah's direction. She settled self-consciously against the other witch.

"I wasn't entirely certain that Draco could be a Dominant. He was addicted, broken and mourning, in need of relief." Neville lifted Draco's fingers to his lips and Draco rested his head on Neville's shoulder. "Everybody knows Harry's story. We all watched him fight, and we all saw his seemingly lifeless body on the ground the day of the battle before Nagini was killed, making way for Voldemort's eventual demise. Nobody really knows Draco's story—even the ones who wound up at Malfoy Manor." He looked pointedly at Dean, who bit his lip, his eyes vacant. Seamus stroked his cheek gently, and he brushed his lips over the Irishman's before letting out a sigh and turning his attention back to Neville.

"The Draco Malfoy that you know, Épiphanie, is not the Draco that we grew up with. He was selfish, rude, manipulative and a right bully. He had been brought up in the darkest pureblood ways—always maintain an air of superiority, win at all costs, and one never gives in to the heart. Intimate pleasure is for the weak; the powerful do not serve, they are served. But he had, in fact, been forced to submit—an unwilling servant to the cruelest sadist. We were unaware that remorse, regret and doubt were dogging him while he was tormenting the rest of us."

Épiphanie stared transfixed as Neville stroked the top of the Slytherin's head gently. Draco's eyes were closed and he seemed not to care that he was being carefully watched by the others in the room. She remembered that heartbreaking time when they had shut one another out.

" _You're lying, Draco…_ "

 _"…So what? Now you're in my dreams? Do I not have any privacy?"_

 _"Of course you do. But hell, you called out my name! If you don't want me in your head, don't invite me!"_

… _Épiphanie elbowed Draco in the chest and he grabbed her arm, spinning her around and slapping her across the face as he snatched the flask from her hand._

 _She let out a startled gasp, her hand flying to her stinging cheek. Draco dropped the flask, spilling the contents._

" _Épiphanie, Merlin! I'm sorry! I'm—" he took a step toward her, and was suddenly hurled backwards by the force of her knockback jinx, toppling over the chair. "Dragonfly—" he stopped when he saw the malevolent glare on her face._

 _"Get out, before I do something I'll regret!" she hissed…"_

…" _Don't you love me anymore, Épiphanie?..."_

She watched him tense as Neville spoke, and saw the way that Neville responded. It was eerily reminiscent of the connection that she, herself, shared with him.

Draco closed his eyes and leaned into Neville's embrace. He didn't care that Épiphanie was watching. Neville was the only other person in his life who let him live his truth and made it beautiful. He had pushed him through the ugly and let him have a relief he hadn't known he was in need of. Épiphanie had kissed away the pain, but Neville opened the wound and let him force out the emotional obscurus threatening to overtake him. He remembered that awful day that he'd stumbled drunkenly into the Potions classroom after fighting with Épiphanie the night before, then chasing his high from the Draught of Peace with Neville's high-grade hashish.

 _He felt as if he was going to be sick and only wanted to go to bed. The heavy scent of the Amortentia that had pervaded the classroom for the entire period did nothing to help his attempts to straighten out his muddled thinking. He was sure that his essay would make no sense to the professor. The smell of vanilla and cocoa mingled with fine tobacco filled his brain, even now._

 _"What did you do, Draco?" Ron demanded._

 _"Sod off, Weasley!" Draco slurred. He attempted to push past the two Gryffindors, but his footing was unsteady and Ron caught him, pushing him hard against the wall, his wand at the Slytherin's throat._

 _"Right now, I'm certain that Épiphanie is spilling her guts to the girls. Three pissed off witches with a particular skill for hexes are not how I want the rest of my day to go!"_

 _"Ron!" Harry placed a hand on his friend's wand hand. "Look, Draco. You don't look well, and Épiphanie seems to be heartbroken. Whatever is going on, if she matters to you in the way you spoke of her at The Manor, you need to fix it."_

 _"I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, if Hermione takes this out on me—so help you!" Ron pointed a finger in Draco's face. "Git!" They left him and Draco turned to stagger towards the Slytherin dungeon once again when he was grabbed by Neville._

 _"Oh, no you don't! I told you not to smoke it with any calming potions!"_

 _"I—but it was just a little—" Draco heaved and lost the contents of his stomach. Neville leapt back just in time to avoid getting slimed. Draco wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe._

 _"Merlin's saggy underpants! Let's go!" Neville grabbed Draco by the collar and dragged him up the stairs._

 _Draco stumbled along with Neville until they reached the seventh floor corridor. After three passes in front of the dancing trolls, Neville shoved him roughly into the room of requirement._

 _"Expelliarmus!" Neville caught Draco's wand._

 _"Oi! What are you playing at?" Draco demanded._

 _"You won't need it." Neville shoved Draco's wand into his robes and relieved the Slytherin of his satchel, casting a cleaning charm on it to remove the remnants of his sickness from it._

 _Draco's eyes fluttered closed, and he swayed, barely bothering to stay awake as Neville dragged him across the room. He wished he could just lie down somewhere—anywhere away from all these angry Gryffindors. Suddenly, he was enveloped by a frigid sensation, clawing his way from underwater. He inhaled sharply as he broke the surface of the ice bath and attempted to climb out of the large tub._

 _"Locomotor Mortis!" Neville growled. Draco's legs were unceremoniously locked together and the Gryffindor shoved him down into the icy water once more. "Look at that! Getting tortured by you and your lot those years ago, turned out to be useful after all!"_

 _"Oh! FUCK! What the hell, Longbottom!" Draco spluttered as he came up again, shivering from the cold. He wiped his face and thrashed about unable to free himself from the leg-locker curse._

 _Neville grabbed his collar and pulled him up until their faces were inches apart. He placed the tip of his wand under Draco's chin._

 _"Now, you listen to me, Malfoy! I am not going into the lake because you were too stupid to be responsible! Épiphanie is my friend, and because of you, she's lost respect for me!" Neville released him from the curse and threw a large towel and robe at him. "Get dressed!"_

 _A fireplace appeared along with a couple of chairs. Neville went to sit in one and Draco scrambled out of the frigid tub of water and dried himself, wrapping up in the warm dressing gown. He shuffled over to the empty chair, pushing it as close to the fire as possible and sank into it. Neville glowered at him._

" _You're a right arsehole, do you know that, Malfoy? You get off on bullying others, and talking shit, but when it gets hot, you run!"_

" _Wait a minute—" Who was this person? It couldn't be the same clumsy, forgetful Longbottom who fell from his broom first year._

 _Neville raised his wand, and Draco backed down. This definitely wasn't the same Neville of their childhood. This was the Neville Longbottom who stood up to The Dark Lord and slayed Nagini with the Sword of Gryffindor. Draco stared at him in awe._

" _Honestly, I was stunned to discover that you managed to drive off the dementors after Lucius waylaid Épiphanie. You stood up to your own father. I never would have guessed it. So, how come you can't overcome your demons? You're not worthy of her."_

" _I can't live without her, Longbottom! Épiphanie is my beginning and my end!" Draco exclaimed._

" _Really?" Neville stared at him in disbelief. "Because if Hannah loved me even an ounce as much as that witch loves you, I would never break her heart like you've broken Épiphanie's. But of course, you Slytherins always think of yourselves first—I still can't understand why the Sorting Hat placed her there." Neville leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His voice was much calmer when he spoke again. "I believe you sincerely want to change, Draco. You're not the Malfoy I used to know, and I feel somewhat responsible for this situation you're in now, so I'm going to help you—only if you're willing to do the work."_

" _I can't lose her, Longbottom! I can't!" Draco dropped his head._

" _This isn't about Épiphanie. It's about you, Draco. What I propose will hardly be easy. You will have to do something you've never done before. I won't do it unless you want it."_

 _A small bouquet appeared, hovering in the space between them. Draco looked at the posy of white poppy, scarlet pimpernel, tuberose and harebell, tied together with grass._

" _These blossoms represent consolation, change, a little dangerous pleasure, and most of all—submission. That's what you need, Draco. I can give that to you. You have to trust me. Do not accept this offering, unless you are willing to do exactly as I say without question."_

 _Draco looked from the nosegay to the blond sitting across from him. Here was another Gryffindor whom he had tormented for years willing to help him. What did they see in Draco that he could not? They had shown him forgiveness, and grace. Is this what true love was? Draco wanted that above anything else. He wanted to live beyond the guilt and the pain. He clenched his fists, fingers stiff with the lingering cold. Neville sat patiently in his chair, idly turning his wand in his fingers. Finally, Draco summoned the courage to reach out a shivering hand and take the flowers._

" _Good. I'm happy that you chose to let me help you, Draco."_

" _Can I have my wand back now?"_

" _No." Neville stood and slowly moved behind Draco. "First, you need to understand that you are safe here. You can trust me. I will never reveal what happens in this room without your consent. I will do nothing without your consent. Just say 'yes' if that is okay. If you are uncomfortable, or wish to stop, just say so." He leaned close to Draco's ear. "You're tense, Draco. Let me help ease your anxiety. I'm going to rub your shoulders."_

 _Draco exhaled slowly and waited. After a few seconds passed, he realized that Neville was waiting for him to respond._

" _Okay. Yes."_

 _Neville placed his hands on Draco's shoulders and began to massage them. Draco relaxed into the firm touch kneading his muscles. The fire seemed warmer now, and his shivering ceased. He closed his eyes as the tension began to fade away._

" _You don't have to be aloof and cold all the time, Draco." Neville's voice was soft and soothing in his ear as he worked his way down Draco's back. "Being vulnerable isn't a bad thing. There are people willing to be there when you feel weak, when you are afraid, when you are alone."_

 _Draco let out a shuddering sigh. Neville stroked the top of Draco's head, running his fingers through the long, pale hair._

" _Stand up, Draco."_

 _Draco stood, his shoulders slumped, eyes watching the flickering flames dancing in the fireplace. Neville stepped in front of him._

" _Look at me, Draco." He waited. Slowly the Slytherin raised his head and met the taller man's piercing eyes. "I'm about to do some things that you have never experienced before. I will not act without your consent, but I promise that you can trust me. You don't have to be afraid."_

" _Okay." Draco shrugged. Neville raised a brow. "Yes."_

" _I would like to touch you."_

" _What? Why?"_

" _Draco. Trust me."_

" _Okay—I mean…yes." Draco bit his lip._

 _Neville placed his hands on Draco's arms and looked into his eyes._

" _You are safe, Draco. I promise. No hurt, harm or danger will befall you here." With that, Neville drew him into an embrace, gently rubbing his back. Draco flinched instinctively, but the powerful embrace and the warm body of the other wizard, radiated protection. Draco wanted to stay there forever. He pressed himself closer to Neville and felt the arms of the other wizard tighten around him as he kneaded the back of his neck. Draco let out a long sigh._

 _Neville continued to touch Draco, even as he broke the embrace. He moved to stand behind him and slowly removed the dressing gown. The Gryffindor ran his hands lightly over the pale, sinewy skin of the Slytherin's back. He wrapped his arms around Draco, resting his chin on his shoulder, and traced over the long scars on his chest from the curse that had been inflicted upon him by another Gryffindor who had ultimately gifted him with mercy._

" _Please!" Draco choked out. His lip quivered. He could feel the jumper, worn soft over time, and the neat creases that made up the pleats in Neville's trousers against his bare skin._

" _I would like your submission now, Draco. I am going to cast a spell if you allow me to."_

 _All Draco wanted was for Neville to hold him again. He would do anything for that embrace._

" _Yes, please."_

" _Incarcere Continuisse!"_

 _Draco found himself bound with his arms spread wide and his feet shackled to the floor. He gasped and pulled at his bonds._

" _Shh. You are safe, Draco. There's only you and me here. Trust me." And the embrace returned, one hand calmly stroking his hair. He closed his eyes._

" _I would like to cover your eyes now, so that you can concentrate."_

" _Y-yes." Draco breathed._

" _Obscuro!"_

 _All of the light was shut out as the blindfold tightly held his closed eyelids in place._

" _Remember this safe spell, Draco. If you feel overwhelmed—Requiram Auxilium."_

" _Yes. Okay. Yes." Draco's pulse quickened and he leaned back towards the voice._

 _Neville raked his nails over Draco's back, faint pink trails in their wake. He dragged his fingertips over every surface of his skin. Draco's breath hitched and he stifled a moan._

" _You need release, Draco. Let me give it to you. Purge your sorrows, grief, and dissatisfaction."_

 _Draco exhaled slowly. Neville withdrew his hand and Draco whimpered. He turned his head, frantic to hear some movement when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Was that the tip of a wand?_

" _Draco."_

" _Yes!" he panted._

" _Concentrate."_

 _Tap. It touched his back. Tap. It touched his backside. Tap. He felt the touch on back of his thigh. Tap. It touched his forehead. Neville held the wand there a moment before he slowly and deliberately traced it down the side of Draco's face, along the curve of his jaw, down the side of his neck. He continued, patiently and deliberately over his collarbone and down the center of his chest. He crossed each pectoral muscle and drew a lazy circle around each blush nipple._

 _Draco began to breathe more heavily and that familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach began to bloom as the blood rushed to his groin. He pulled at his bonds. The tip of the wand moved ever slowly over his taut abdomen, looping around his navel again and again. Draco was panting now. Lower, and across from one hip to the other. Lower and lower, until the light pressure ceased. Draco bucked his hips forward. His erection bobbed._

" _Please!" he whispered._

" _Patience, Draco. True ecstasy lies within the senses. Crucio Vexo!"_

 _Draco yelped when he felt a light stinging sensation to his chest. It dissipated nearly as quickly as it came. Suddenly, he felt another against his stomach._

" _Ah!" He bit his lip hard._

 _Three stings struck each thigh in rapid succession._

" _Shit! Mmmm!" He moaned and panted as he twisted fruitlessly whilst his torso was peppered with the hexes over and over._

" _You're taking it well, Draco. I think we should continue."_

" _Y-yes! Please!" Draco stammered._

 _Neville moved behind him, dragging the tip of his wand over Draco's excited skin as he did so. Draco turned his head as if he could see what the other wizard was up to._

" _Instigosempra!" Neville pointed his wand. Draco inhaled sharply and hissed._

" _Fuck!" Draco spat, as his loins began to quiver. His legs quaked and he tightened his muscles writhing in his bonds. "Ohhh, fuck! Shit! Fuck!"_

" _Ipsam carnem!"_

 _Draco felt a lash across his back. He cried out._

" _Fucking Merlin! Ohhhh!" he moaned._

" _Yes, Draco. There is no pleasure without pain."_

 _Another lash burned his back._

" _I am going to mark you, Draco. Let each stripe release that pain that you are holding in."_

 _Draco made a strangled noise. The quiver in his groin was agonizing and gratifying at the same time._

" _Draco."_

" _Mmmm…yes!"_

" _Count for me, love." Neville flicked his wand. Another lash seared his flesh. This one landed across his backside."_

" _Sssssss!" Draco hissed._

" _Finite."_

 _The vibrations in Draco's groin ceased. His legs trembled as he relaxed, breathing heavily._

 _"Draco."_

 _"Wha-wha—"_

 _"There was something you were to do."_

 _"I-I—"_

 _"Focus, Draco. Trust me."_

 _"I—yes."_

 _"Tell me what I wanted you to do." Neville's voice was patient, like a parent with a child. It was calm and gentle even._

 _"C-count."_

 _"Good."_

 _"One."_

 _"Excellent, Draco."_

 _The next lash burned the backs of his thighs._

 _"Mmmm! Two!" Another. "Three…Ah! Four!"_

 _The next stung his ass again._

 _"Five!"_

 _"Instigosempra!" The quiver began anew, followed by three quick burning lashes to his back._

 _"Fucking Salazar! Shit! Shit!"_

 _"Draco."_

 _"Six, seven. Mmmm…eight!"_

 _"Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim. Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you, Draco. Release it."_

 _"I can't!"_

 _"You can. Ipsam Carnem!" Neville flicked his wand again, and again, and again._

 _The lashes kept coming. Draco moaned loudly and tears streamed from his eyes._

 _"I'm sorry!" he wailed. "He had my family! I had no choice! I didn't want anyone to die! I didn't want them tortured! I didn't want the mark! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Oh! I couldn't stop it! I couldn't—I—please! Please! I—I—"_

 _"Cling to those shadows no more, Draco. That life is done. This is the penance you sought and the consolation that you required. The pain is over, Draco. Accept the pleasure."_

 _"Aaahhhh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Shit!" Draco shuddered, pulling violently against his bonds, his skin bruising red beneath them as he reached climax._

 _"Finite Incantatem!" Neville grabbed Draco around the waist, supporting the exhausted and sated wizard. "Exsolvo!" The bonds were released and Neville carefully settled him into cushions that appeared on the floor, cradling Draco's head in his lap as he cleaned him and applied Dittany to his skin, made raw from resisting his restraints._

 _He wrapped him in the dressing gown and they sat like that quietly for more than an hour, the Gryffindor gently smoothing a hand over the Slytherin's pale hair._

 _"Neville?"_

 _"Hm?"_

 _"I'm sorry…I was wrong to torment you like that."_

 _"Things change, Draco. People change. Forgiveness isn't for you. It's for me. For the past to die, I have long-ago buried that pain." He gave the long-haired blond a smile. They fell silent once more. Draco finally sat up, drawing his knees to his chest._

 _"I'm not gay."_

 _"I know. Nor am I," Neville replied with a shrug._

 _"I—erm—"_

 _"You don't have to worry, Draco. What happened here, stays here. I will never reveal it without your consent."_

 _"No, it's not that—I mean—I appreciate that, but—actually, erm..." Draco's cheeks reddened. "I'd like to learn to do what you did. To do—I mean, to be—"_

 _"To be a dominant?"_

 _"Is that—is that something I can learn?"_

 _Neville's smile broadened._

"Why didn't Draco's posy have cherry blossoms in it, Neville?" Épiphanie asked.

"Because I wasn't asking him to accept my protection, although by virtue of the fact that I mentored his journey to becoming a dominant, I have ultimately given it.

Draco isn't a submissive. However, I laid him bare because he _needed_ it. I discovered quickly what his true nature was, but his upbringing and exposure to Voldemort had skewed his understanding of power and dominance. A good dominant must be inclined not only to take control, but to serve—and serve willingly. Anything else could be dangerous, and in fact potentially deadly."

Draco summoned the box that Diggy had given him when the group first arrived. "I have something for you." He knelt in front of Neville and held out the carved wooden box. Neville took it and opened the lid. His lips parted in surprise when he saw the object nestled in the velvet cushion.

"Is it—is it the same one?" he murmured, removing it from the box and holding up to the light. Seamus and Dean let out simultaneous gasps.

"What is that?" Épiphanie asked.

"It's a remembrall," said Dean.

"It's _my_ remembrall!" Neville whispered.

" _Madame Hooch, do you remember the flying class my first year when Longbottom fell off his broom? I had a laugh at his expense and stole one of his belongings. He was terribly humiliated. Épiphanie was nervous about having her first lesson in front of so many people. I remembered how I treated Neville that day and I only wanted Épiphanie to relax and trust her broom."_

"Wait! When we were in Professor McGonagall's office that day…Is that the—"

"It is. I had no idea that I still had it, until I emptied my old school trunk a few weeks ago. I hope that you will accept it as my way of thanking you for your forgiveness and friendship."

Neville nodded, not trusting his voice.


	10. Pocketful of Posies

_**Pocketful of Posies**_

The air rippled with the thunder of bass that echoed out into the alleyway where a queue had formed that snaked out to the sidewalk beyond. The clubgoers waiting at the curb looked on with curiosity at the Rolls Royce that pulled up to the curb. The driver opened the door and a tall light-skinned black girl with wavy hair stepped out. She was followed by two more women—a redhead and another girl with long bushy hair—and three young men—a tall redhead, whom some speculated might have been related to his ginger counterpart, a guy with black hair that seemed to have something of a mind of its own and a lean pale man with hair so blond that it was practically white.

It was the blond and the black girl who were the most striking pair of the group. While the first two couples were dressed as if they stepped off of a runway in Milan, this couple had a style all of their own that said "fuck conventionality."

She wore a white ruffled blouse with a high neck and a fitted vest of silver brocade beneath a green velvet trench coat that hugged her curves and boasted ornate silver buttons down both lapels. Black leather pants and riding boots completed her ensemble. Her companion wore a similar look. He wore a silver cravat with a white silk shirt and green waistcoat. His silver-gray velvet trench was identical to hers in shape and cut, but boasted dragons embroidered along his back. Several of the females in the line ogled his lean legs and tight ass in his leather pants and motorcycle boots as he strode past, his coattails lifting slightly in his wake. They nudged one another and pointed at his flowing blond hair, their companions throwing him looks of derision.

"What does he think he is?" one man muttered under his breath.

"Steampunk," said the girl with him.

"What?" he looked at her curiously.

"Haven't you ever read _The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?_ " she asked impatiently. "I wonder if they're models. He's awfully dishy!"

The guard drew back the velvet rope and admitted the three couples to the club's interior.

"Welcome to Club Nightshade. Take the stairs up to the VIP level," he said.

Épiphanie and Draco followed Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny up a spiral staircase to a glass-enclosed room that overlooked the large dancefloor of the club. Neville and Hannah were seated with Dean Thomas in a large banquette that wrapped the wall at the far end of the room. Ice buckets with bottles of champagne were placed on the low table in front of them.

"Well, no one ever accused you guys of standing out in a crowd!" Dean exclaimed, rising from his seat and clasping Draco's hand. He gave Épiphanie a light peck on the cheek.

"You look amazing!" said Hannah. Épiphanie didn't fail to notice the silver band around Hannah's neck and her fingers floated up to her own as Neville helped her out of her coat, one hand surreptitiously trailing down her spine.

"A corset!" he said in a voice just low enough for her to hear over the music without their friends taking notice. "Lovely!"

"Thank you, sir." She smiled and slid into Draco's lap, accepting the glass of champagne he offered her.

"Dean, this place is _incredible!_ " Hermione exclaimed. "And there's no magic?"

"It's well hidden. All the staff are either witches and wizards or muggles who have mages in their families. Makes it easier to hide from the muggle patrons, and we don't have to explain to anyone why they can't work on 'wizards only' nights. We've applied to the Ministry for a portal to Diagon Alley. The back side of the club, where we have the outdoor bar, backs up to the south side right next to Ollivander's."

"That's brilliant! Good luck!" Harry exclaimed.

"It would drive up wizarding traffic from those who aren't comfortable moving about muggle London. Knowing your marketplace and exploiting it is always a good business decision," said Draco.

"Okay, not that this isn't absolutely stimulating conversation, but I want to dance!" Ginny declared. She pulled Harry to his feet and pushed open a door that led out to a balcony and another spiral staircase which went directly to the dance floor. The others followed and soon they were all caught up in the pulsing mass of bodies moving to the music.

Sweaty and breathless, Draco and Épiphanie left the dance floor in search of refreshment. Draco went to the bar for drinks while Épiphanie took a quick trip to the Ladies'. She stumbled when she emerged, nearly bowling Neville over as he entered the dimly lit corridor with its walls papered in advertisements and concert bills. He took her elbow to keep her from falling into a large sculpture.

"Sorry about that, Neville!" she exclaimed.

"It's no problem." He smiled, backing her up against the wall. "You're a fantastic dancer," he said.

"Thank you." Épiphanie lowered her eyes. She placed her hands on the wall, unsure of how to react to Neville's closeness.

"The mural behind the bar is quite impressive. The enchantress and the messenger of her immortal beloved." He fingered her collar.

"Dean certainly has an eye," she said.

"Indeed."

"Neville, I was wondering—"

"What the _hell?"_

They looked up to see a shocked and red-faced Ron emerging from the Men's lounge. Épiphanie's shoulder's sagged and she tried to step away, but Neville had his arm on the wall with no intention of moving it, and the sculpture blocked her from the other side.

"Neville, what are you playing at? Épiphanie!"

"Ron, it's not—" she started, pushing Neville. He didn't budge. Ron strode up to them, his wand hand reaching into his pocket.

"What the fuck?" he demanded.

"Ron, there are _muggles_ here!" Épiphanie declared.

"So, what? Do you think _Malfoy_ would care about that if he saw the two of you like this?"

A wand appeared out of nowhere at Ron's throat and Draco was behind him grabbing his wand hand.

"Draco is _standing_ right here, and does not want to cause a scene in his mates' club, as I am sure you would agree, Auror Weasley!" Draco spoke close to his ear. "Let's everyone put our wands away before Dean and Seamus have security throw us out. I assure you, everything is fine, Ronald. Why don't you go and buy a round for everyone?" Draco removed his wand and pressed a wad of bills into Ron's hand, clapping him on the shoulder.

Draco stepped back and Ron eyed the trio with suspicion. Épiphanie looked nervous. Neville wore an expression of benign amusement and Draco's face wore the same mask of sinister cautiousness that he remembered seeing on Lucius' countenance on more than one occasion.

"Dragonfly." Draco held out his hand to Épiphanie as Seamus switched the music to a heavy reggae dancehall beat. Neville dropped his hand and she stepped away from him. As they turned away, Neville grabbed Draco by the wrist. He pulled him back and spoke low in his ear. Draco looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded, before pulling Épiphanie with him onto the dance floor.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked when Ron returned to the VIP area and slumped into the booth beside her.

"You won't believe what—" He stopped short when he realized that Hannah was sitting nearby. "I'll tell you later," he muttered.

Neville returned to the room and drew Hannah into his lap, stroking her hair. Hermione looked from Neville to Ron, who scowled at him as he drank his beer. Draco pulled Épiphanie into his lap, as they took a seat next to Neville a few minutes later. He played with her collar, nuzzling her neck as he stroked her hair. Hermione watched the two couples with interest. She shot a glance at Ginny, who raised a questioning brow.

"Do you see that?" Ginny nudged Harry.

"What?" He turned away from the conversation he was having with Dean and looked over at the two couples on the other end of the banquette. He chuckled. "I wonder if they even know that they're doing it."

"Looks like Neville's got another one," Seamus said as he bounced into the room.

"What?"

"Nothing," said Dean, drawing Seamus into his lap. He gave him a peck on the cheek and began whispering urgently in his ear. Seamus nodded.

"So, gang! How d'ya like the place?"

"It's brilliant, mate!" said Harry.

"We've already been able to pay back the initial investment. Me Mam was over the moon! She was convinced I'd be destitute an' beggin' on the streets o' Dublin wearing spandex hot pants!" he laughed.

"What are hot pants?" asked Neville.

"What's spandex?" asked Ron.

"Nothing that we _ever_ want to see Seamus wearing!" Épiphanie snorted.

"I can think of a few things I'd rather not see my mates getting up to," Ron muttered, still glaring at Neville.

Ginny looked from her brother to Neville, who seemed unperturbed as he spoke close to Draco's ear.

Ron was first out of the limousine when it arrived outside of 12 Grimmauld Place. He stalked into the house and nearly roused Mrs. Black, had Hermione not caught the door before it slammed against the wall. She jogged to catch up with him in the lounge where he was already pouring a glass of firewhiskey.

"Ronald! If you get buggered tonight, you're sleeping alone!" she announced. "What happened?"

"What's going on?" Harry asked as he entered the room, removing his jacket. Ginny stepped in a moment later.

"Neville! Bloody, fucking Neville!" Ron fumed.

"What about Neville, mate?"

"I was coming out of the loo and found him pressed up against Épiphanie in the hallway!"

" _Neville?"_ Hermione's face was a mask of disbelief. "No way!"

"Draco would have slaughtered him!" Harry laughed.

"But he _didn't!"_ Ron exclaimed, pouring another drink. Hermione took the glass away from him.

"You mean he was _there_?" Ginny was aghast.

"He walked up at some point as I was confronting them. Put his wand to my fucking throat and told me to back off!"

"What?"

"Said we were making a scene and said _everything was fine!_ Actually gave me money and suggested I buy a round! Since when are he and Neville best mates?"

"Well, what did Épiphanie have to say while all this was going on?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, she looked like she wanted to apparate right out of there, but Neville had her pinned against the wall. Didn't move until Draco reached out for her. Neville stood there grinning like a bleedin' kneazle the whole time!"

"He didn't say _anything?"_ Harry knitted his brow.

"Well, just as Draco and Épiphanie started to walk away, he grabbed Draco by the wrist and said something to him, but they were very close and I couldn't hear what it was. I think he wanted something, because Draco looked like he was thinking about it, then he nodded before they went out to the dance floor."

"Ron, are you absolutely certain of what you saw? Maybe Neville was just talking to her about—" Ginny began.

"No, Ginny. He was _entirely_ too close to her. Had his hand practically in her blouse!" Ron insisted.

"Something odd is definitely up. They were both awfully demonstrative, holding them in their laps, stroking their hair the same way." Hermione was thoughtful.

"Aw, come on guys. I think you're making too much of this. It's likely just a series of coincidences. Didn't you see Dean and Seamus do practically the same thing?" Harry interjected. "Some couples are just more intimate than others. I think we all have much more important things to concentrate on these days than how our friends and their partners get on. The way that Draco treated Neville in school, I personally think it's great that they get along now. Épiphanie's a big girl and a powerful enough witch to take care of herself. Let's just stay out of it."

Draco and Épiphanie entered the grand foyer at Antares Hall just as Neville, Hannah, Dean and Seamus apparated into the water garden between the kitchen and natatorium. Diggy led them up to the reception room where Draco whispered something to the elf. It disappeared and returned momentarily with a small wooden box. Draco took it and placed it on a side table beside the sofa.

"Doesn't The Minister of Magic live in this street?" Neville asked, leveling a measured gaze at Épiphanie. He took a seat on one end of the art deco sofa that faced the fireplace, one arm draped across the back, and his legs crossed. Hannah settled at his feet, resting her head against his thigh.

"On the opposite crescent," she replied. "But keep that on the low, y'all. He doesn't know Draco has a house here, and I'd like to keep it that way." She joined Draco, who also sat on the sofa, and he pulled her feet into his lap.

Dean sat in a deep club chair beside the fireplace and Seamus crawled into his lap, straddling him. Dean stroked his thighs.

"So what was Weasley on about?" Seamus asked. He rocked his hips against Dean's, sliding his hands under his shirt.

"Neville?" Draco looked at him.

"Ron reckoned that the physical proximity of our bodies as we talked was far too intimate." Neville stroked a hand over Hannah's hair.

"Does he know anything about us?" Dean asked. His eyes were closed and he slouched in his chair with his head back. One hand rested on Seamus' ass.

"No. Neither do the others."

"They have their suspicions though. Hermione and Ginny confronted me about it that day we first got fitted for our dress robes. You know, at Tethrippon?" Épiphanie said as Draco removed her boots. She wriggled her feet around, pointing and flexing her toes. Draco chuckled, capturing her feet once again.

"Ah, yes! You never had an opportunity to enjoy your salmon." He kissed her ankles.

"You didn't!" Seamus exclaimed. He stopped massaging Dean's chest, and stared excitedly at her. Dean snapped his fingers.

"Oi, focus! Nobody told you to stop." He narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. Seamus turned his attention back to Dean, grinding against him as he moved his hands over his torso.

"A bit of a surreptitious tease is certainly fortuitous when your sub is a legilimens." Draco winked.

"So how long have you and Seamus been together, Dean? With all that was going on, I hadn't realized until school was nearly out that you two were a couple," asked Épiphanie.

"Well, we didn't really get together until after the war, what with me dropping out of school and being on the run and all." He ran his fingers through Seamus' hair. Épiphanie thought she felt Draco stiffen slightly at Dean's mention of the war. She wondered how Draco and Dean were connected in that regard, but didn't ponder it for very long as a movement caught her eye. Neville's fingertips were idly playing in Draco's hair.

"…and before that, there was the whole affair with a certain ginger on the Gryffindor Quidditch team who shall remain nameless," Seamus added, leaning down to kiss him. Dean tightened his hold on Seamus hair and pulled his head back sharply.

"Careful, my sweet," he warned. Seamus growled in response. Dean released him. "You're incorrigible, you know." Seamus pressed his lips to Dean's.

"Have you ever been with a woman, Épiphanie?" Hannah asked.

"I—uh haven't been with anyone except Draco," she replied sheepishly.

"Aww, that's so sweet! Malfoy popped the Minister's Daughter! Some guys have all the luck!" Dean teased.

"Sod off, Thomas. You're just jealous."

"Of whom? You…or her?" Neville teased. Épiphanie looked at him curiously.

"Maybe both," Dean replied with a shrug and a wink. They laughed.

"So, how did—how did you all get into this?" Épiphanie asked.

"Neville," everyone replied.

"Not me," said Dean. "But he did help me with Seamus' first time."

"What about you, Épiphanie?" asked Seamus. He settled into Dean's lap with his head on his shoulder. "What was your posy?"

"Honeysuckle and Lily of the Valley. What about you?"

"Acacia and Black Poplar," Seamus blushed. "Hannah?"

"Cherry Blossom, Lady Slipper, and white wallflower."

"Aren't you going to ask Draco what was in his nosegay?" Neville asked. He moved his hand from the back of the sofa and his fingers sought out and began to lightly draw circles on the back of Draco's hand, which was resting between them.

"Wait—what?" Épiphanie sat up, looking from him to Draco. "I thought that—why would Neville ask you to submit to him?"

"First, tell her what your flowers were," said Neville.

"White poppy, scarlet pimpernel, tuberose, and harebell." Draco's voice was soft and reflective. "Bound with grass."

"Consolation, change, some dangerous pleasures…submission—all of the things that he was in need of that day, when he got sick on me outside of the potions dungeon." Neville took Draco's hand, and the Slytherin moved closer to the Gryffindor. Épiphanie looked on curiously.

Neville touched Hannah's shoulder and she got up, moving to the sofa, where she sat down on the other end and took Épiphanie into her arms. Épiphanie looked at Draco, who only kissed her fingers and gently pushed her in Hannah's direction. She settled self-consciously against the other witch.

"I wasn't entirely certain that Draco could be a Dominant. He was addicted, broken and mourning, in need of relief." Neville lifted Draco's fingers to his lips and Draco rested his head on Neville's shoulder. "Everybody knows Harry's story. We all watched him fight, and we all saw his seemingly lifeless body on the ground the day of the battle before Nagini was killed, making way for Voldemort's eventual demise. Nobody really knows Draco's story—even the ones who wound up at Malfoy Manor." He looked pointedly at Dean, who bit his lip, his eyes vacant. Seamus stroked his cheek gently, and he brushed his lips over the Irishman's before letting out a sigh and turning his attention back to Neville.

"The Draco Malfoy that you know, Épiphanie, is not the Draco that we grew up with. He was selfish, rude, manipulative and a right bully. He had been brought up in the darkest pureblood ways—always maintain an air of superiority, win at all costs, and one never gives in to the heart. Intimate pleasure is for the weak; the powerful do not serve, they are served. But he had, in fact, been forced to submit—an unwilling servant to the cruelest sadist. We were unaware that remorse, regret and doubt were dogging him while he was tormenting the rest of us."

Épiphanie stared transfixed as Neville stroked the top of the Slytherin's head gently. Draco's eyes were closed and he seemed not to care that he was being carefully watched by the others in the room. She remembered that heartbreaking time when they had shut one another out.

" _You're lying, Draco…_ "

 _"…So what? Now you're in my dreams? Do I not have any privacy?"_

 _"Of course you do. But hell, you called out my name! If you don't want me in your head, don't invite me!"_

… _Épiphanie elbowed Draco in the chest and he grabbed her arm, spinning her around and slapping her across the face as he snatched the flask from her hand._

 _She let out a startled gasp, her hand flying to her stinging cheek. Draco dropped the flask, spilling the contents._

" _Épiphanie, Merlin! I'm sorry! I'm—" he took a step toward her, and was suddenly hurled backwards by the force of her knockback jinx, toppling over the chair. "Dragonfly—" he stopped when he saw the malevolent glare on her face._

 _"Get out, before I do something I'll regret!" she hissed…"_

…" _Don't you love me anymore, Épiphanie?..."_

She watched him tense as Neville spoke, and saw the way that Neville responded. It was eerily reminiscent of the connection that she, herself, shared with him.

Draco closed his eyes and leaned into Neville's embrace. He didn't care that Épiphanie was watching. Neville was the only other person in his life who let him live his truth and made it beautiful. He had pushed him through the ugly and let him have a relief he hadn't known he was in need of. Épiphanie had kissed away the pain, but Neville opened the wound and let him force out the emotional obscurus threatening to overtake him. He remembered that awful day that he'd stumbled drunkenly into the Potions classroom after fighting with Épiphanie the night before, then chasing his high from the Draught of Peace with Neville's high-grade hashish.

 _He felt as if he was going to be sick and only wanted to go to bed. The heavy scent of the Amortentia that had pervaded the classroom for the entire period did nothing to help his attempts to straighten out his muddled thinking. He was sure that his essay would make no sense to the professor. The smell of vanilla and cocoa mingled with fine tobacco filled his brain, even now._

 _"What did you do, Draco?" Ron demanded._

 _"Sod off, Weasley!" Draco slurred. He attempted to push past the two Gryffindors, but his footing was unsteady and Ron caught him, pushing him hard against the wall, his wand at the Slytherin's throat._

 _"Right now, I'm certain that Épiphanie is spilling her guts to the girls. Three pissed off witches with a particular skill for hexes are not how I want the rest of my day to go!"_

 _"Ron!" Harry placed a hand on his friend's wand hand. "Look, Draco. You don't look well, and Épiphanie seems to be heartbroken. Whatever is going on, if she matters to you in the way you spoke of her at The Manor, you need to fix it."_

 _"I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, if Hermione takes this out on me—so help you!" Ron pointed a finger in Draco's face. "Git!" They left him and Draco turned to stagger towards the Slytherin dungeon once again when he was grabbed by Neville._

 _"Oh, no you don't! I told you not to smoke it with any calming potions!"_

 _"I—but it was just a little—" Draco heaved and lost the contents of his stomach. Neville leapt back just in time to avoid getting slimed. Draco wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe._

 _"Merlin's saggy underpants! Let's go!" Neville grabbed Draco by the collar and dragged him up the stairs._

 _Draco stumbled along with Neville until they reached the seventh floor corridor. After three passes in front of the dancing trolls, Neville shoved him roughly into the room of requirement._

 _"Expelliarmus!" Neville caught Draco's wand._

 _"Oi! What are you playing at?" Draco demanded._

 _"You won't need it." Neville shoved Draco's wand into his robes and relieved the Slytherin of his satchel, casting a cleaning charm on it to remove the remnants of his sickness from it._

 _Draco's eyes fluttered closed, and he swayed, barely bothering to stay awake as Neville dragged him across the room. He wished he could just lie down somewhere—anywhere away from all these angry Gryffindors. Suddenly, he was enveloped by a frigid sensation, clawing his way from underwater. He inhaled sharply as he broke the surface of the ice bath and attempted to climb out of the large tub._

 _"Locomotor Mortis!" Neville growled. Draco's legs were unceremoniously locked together and the Gryffindor shoved him down into the icy water once more. "Look at that! Getting tortured by you and your lot those years ago, turned out to be useful after all!"_

 _"Oh! FUCK! What the hell, Longbottom!" Draco spluttered as he came up again, shivering from the cold. He wiped his face and thrashed about unable to free himself from the leg-locker curse._

 _Neville grabbed his collar and pulled him up until their faces were inches apart. He placed the tip of his wand under Draco's chin._

 _"Now, you listen to me, Malfoy! I am not going into the lake because you were too stupid to be responsible! Épiphanie is my friend, and because of you, she's lost respect for me!" Neville released him from the curse and threw a large towel and robe at him. "Get dressed!"_

 _A fireplace appeared along with a couple of chairs. Neville went to sit in one and Draco scrambled out of the frigid tub of water and dried himself, wrapping up in the warm dressing gown. He shuffled over to the empty chair, pushing it as close to the fire as possible and sank into it. Neville glowered at him._

" _You're a right arsehole, do you know that, Malfoy? You get off on bullying others, and talking shit, but when it gets hot, you run!"_

" _Wait a minute—" Who was this person? It couldn't be the same clumsy, forgetful Longbottom who fell from his broom first year._

 _Neville raised his wand, and Draco backed down. This definitely wasn't the same Neville of their childhood. This was the Neville Longbottom who stood up to The Dark Lord and slayed Nagini with the Sword of Gryffindor. Draco stared at him in awe._

" _Honestly, I was stunned to discover that you managed to drive off the dementors after Lucius waylaid Épiphanie. You stood up to your own father. I never would have guessed it. So, how come you can't overcome your demons? You're not worthy of her."_

" _I can't live without her, Longbottom! Épiphanie is my beginning and my end!" Draco exclaimed._

" _Really?" Neville stared at him in disbelief. "Because if Hannah loved me even an ounce as much as that witch loves you, I would never break her heart like you've broken Épiphanie's. But of course, you Slytherins always think of yourselves first—I still can't understand why the Sorting Hat placed her there." Neville leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His voice was much calmer when he spoke again. "I believe you sincerely want to change, Draco. You're not the Malfoy I used to know, and I feel somewhat responsible for this situation you're in now, so I'm going to help you—only if you're willing to do the work."_

" _I can't lose her, Longbottom! I can't!" Draco dropped his head._

" _This isn't about Épiphanie. It's about you, Draco. What I propose will hardly be easy. You will have to do something you've never done before. I won't do it unless you want it."_

 _A small bouquet appeared, hovering in the space between them. Draco looked at the posy of white poppy, scarlet pimpernel, tuberose and harebell, tied together with grass._

" _These blossoms represent consolation, change, a little dangerous pleasure, and most of all—submission. That's what you need, Draco. I can give that to you. You have to trust me. Do not accept this offering, unless you are willing to do exactly as I say without question."_

 _Draco looked from the nosegay to the blond sitting across from him. Here was another Gryffindor whom he had tormented for years willing to help him. What did they see in Draco that he could not? They had shown him forgiveness, and grace. Is this what true love was? Draco wanted that above anything else. He wanted to live beyond the guilt and the pain. He clenched his fists, fingers stiff with the lingering cold. Neville sat patiently in his chair, idly turning his wand in his fingers. Finally, Draco summoned the courage to reach out a shivering hand and take the flowers._

" _Good. I'm happy that you chose to let me help you, Draco."_

" _Can I have my wand back now?"_

" _No." Neville stood and slowly moved behind Draco. "First, you need to understand that you are safe here. You can trust me. I will never reveal what happens in this room without your consent. I will do nothing without your consent. Just say 'yes' if that is okay. If you are uncomfortable, or wish to stop, just say so." He leaned close to Draco's ear. "You're tense, Draco. Let me help ease your anxiety. I'm going to rub your shoulders."_

 _Draco exhaled slowly and waited. After a few seconds passed, he realized that Neville was waiting for him to respond._

" _Okay. Yes."_

 _Neville placed his hands on Draco's shoulders and began to massage them. Draco relaxed into the firm touch kneading his muscles. The fire seemed warmer now, and his shivering ceased. He closed his eyes as the tension began to fade away._

" _You don't have to be aloof and cold all the time, Draco." Neville's voice was soft and soothing in his ear as he worked his way down Draco's back. "Being vulnerable isn't a bad thing. There are people willing to be there when you feel weak, when you are afraid, when you are alone."_

 _Draco let out a shuddering sigh. Neville stroked the top of Draco's head, running his fingers through the long, pale hair._

" _Stand up, Draco."_

 _Draco stood, his shoulders slumped, eyes watching the flickering flames dancing in the fireplace. Neville stepped in front of him._

" _Look at me, Draco." He waited. Slowly the Slytherin raised his head and met the taller man's piercing eyes. "I'm about to do some things that you have never experienced before. I will not act without your consent, but I promise that you can trust me. You don't have to be afraid."_

" _Okay." Draco shrugged. Neville raised a brow. "Yes."_

" _I would like to touch you."_

" _What? Why?"_

" _Draco. Trust me."_

" _Okay—I mean…yes." Draco bit his lip._

 _Neville placed his hands on Draco's arms and looked into his eyes._

" _You are safe, Draco. I promise. No hurt, harm or danger will befall you here." With that, Neville drew him into an embrace, gently rubbing his back. Draco flinched instinctively, but the powerful embrace and the warm body of the other wizard, radiated protection. Draco wanted to stay there forever. He pressed himself closer to Neville and felt the arms of the other wizard tighten around him as he kneaded the back of his neck. Draco let out a long sigh._

 _Neville continued to touch Draco, even as he broke the embrace. He moved to stand behind him and slowly removed the dressing gown. The Gryffindor ran his hands lightly over the pale, sinewy skin of the Slytherin's back. He wrapped his arms around Draco, resting his chin on his shoulder, and traced over the long scars on his chest from the curse that had been inflicted upon him by another Gryffindor who had ultimately gifted him with mercy._

" _Please!" Draco choked out. His lip quivered. He could feel the jumper, worn soft over time, and the neat creases that made up the pleats in Neville's trousers against his bare skin._

" _I would like your submission now, Draco. I am going to cast a spell if you allow me to."_

 _All Draco wanted was for Neville to hold him again. He would do anything for that embrace._

" _Yes, please."_

" _Incarcere Continuisse!"_

 _Draco found himself bound with his arms spread wide and his feet shackled to the floor. He gasped and pulled at his bonds._

" _Shh. You are safe, Draco. There's only you and me here. Trust me." And the embrace returned, one hand calmly stroking his hair. He closed his eyes._

" _I would like to cover your eyes now, so that you can concentrate."_

" _Y-yes." Draco breathed._

" _Obscuro!"_

 _All of the light was shut out as the blindfold tightly held his closed eyelids in place._

" _Remember this safe spell, Draco. If you feel overwhelmed—Requiram Auxilium."_

" _Yes. Okay. Yes." Draco's pulse quickened and he leaned back towards the voice._

 _Neville raked his nails over Draco's back, faint pink trails in their wake. He dragged his fingertips over every surface of his skin. Draco's breath hitched and he stifled a moan._

" _You need release, Draco. Let me give it to you. Purge your sorrows, grief, and dissatisfaction."_

 _Draco exhaled slowly. Neville withdrew his hand and Draco whimpered. He turned his head, frantic to hear some movement when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Was that the tip of a wand?_

" _Draco."_

" _Yes!" he panted._

" _Concentrate."_

 _Tap. It touched his back. Tap. It touched his backside. Tap. He felt the touch on back of his thigh. Tap. It touched his forehead. Neville held the wand there a moment before he slowly and deliberately traced it down the side of Draco's face, along the curve of his jaw, down the side of his neck. He continued, patiently and deliberately over his collarbone and down the center of his chest. He crossed each pectoral muscle and drew a lazy circle around each blush nipple._

 _Draco began to breathe more heavily and that familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach began to bloom as the blood rushed to his groin. He pulled at his bonds. The tip of the wand moved ever slowly over his taut abdomen, looping around his navel again and again. Draco was panting now. Lower, and across from one hip to the other. Lower and lower, until the light pressure ceased. Draco bucked his hips forward. His erection bobbed._

" _Please!" he whispered._

" _Patience, Draco. True ecstasy lies within the senses. Crucio Vexo!"_

 _Draco yelped when he felt a light stinging sensation to his chest. It dissipated nearly as quickly as it came. Suddenly, he felt another against his stomach._

" _Ah!" He bit his lip hard._

 _Three stings struck each thigh in rapid succession._

" _Shit! Mmmm!" He moaned and panted as he twisted fruitlessly whilst his torso was peppered with the hexes over and over._

" _You're taking it well, Draco. I think we should continue."_

" _Y-yes! Please!" Draco stammered._

 _Neville moved behind him, dragging the tip of his wand over Draco's excited skin as he did so. Draco turned his head as if he could see what the other wizard was up to._

" _Instigosempra!" Neville pointed his wand. Draco inhaled sharply and hissed._

" _Fuck!" Draco spat, as his loins began to quiver. His legs quaked and he tightened his muscles writhing in his bonds. "Ohhh, fuck! Shit! Fuck!"_

" _Ipsam carnem!"_

 _Draco felt a lash across his back. He cried out._

" _Fucking Merlin! Ohhhh!" he moaned._

" _Yes, Draco. There is no pleasure without pain."_

 _Another lash burned his back._

" _I am going to mark you, Draco. Let each stripe release that pain that you are holding in."_

 _Draco made a strangled noise. The quiver in his groin was agonizing and gratifying at the same time._

" _Draco."_

" _Mmmm…yes!"_

" _Count for me, love." Neville flicked his wand. Another lash seared his flesh. This one landed across his backside."_

" _Sssssss!" Draco hissed._

" _Finite."_

 _The vibrations in Draco's groin ceased. His legs trembled as he relaxed, breathing heavily._

 _"Draco."_

 _"Wha-wha—"_

 _"There was something you were to do."_

 _"I-I—"_

 _"Focus, Draco. Trust me."_

 _"I—yes."_

 _"Tell me what I wanted you to do." Neville's voice was patient, like a parent with a child. It was calm and gentle even._

 _"C-count."_

 _"Good."_

 _"One."_

 _"Excellent, Draco."_

 _The next lash burned the backs of his thighs._

 _"Mmmm! Two!" Another. "Three…Ah! Four!"_

 _The next stung his ass again._

 _"Five!"_

 _"Instigosempra!" The quiver began anew, followed by three quick burning lashes to his back._

 _"Fucking Salazar! Shit! Shit!"_

 _"Draco."_

 _"Six, seven. Mmmm…eight!"_

 _"Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim. Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you, Draco. Release it."_

 _"I can't!"_

 _"You can. Ipsam Carnem!" Neville flicked his wand again, and again, and again._

 _The lashes kept coming. Draco moaned loudly and tears streamed from his eyes._

 _"I'm sorry!" he wailed. "He had my family! I had no choice! I didn't want anyone to die! I didn't want them tortured! I didn't want the mark! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Oh! I couldn't stop it! I couldn't—I—please! Please! I—I—"_

 _"Cling to those shadows no more, Draco. That life is done. This is the penance you sought and the consolation that you required. The pain is over, Draco. Accept the pleasure."_

 _"Aaahhhh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Shit!" Draco shuddered, pulling violently against his bonds, his skin bruising red beneath them as he reached climax._

 _"Finite Incantatem!" Neville grabbed Draco around the waist, supporting the exhausted and sated wizard. "Exsolvo!" The bonds were released and Neville carefully settled him into cushions that appeared on the floor, cradling Draco's head in his lap as he cleaned him and applied Dittany to his skin, made raw from resisting his restraints._

 _He wrapped him in the dressing gown and they sat like that quietly for more than an hour, the Gryffindor gently smoothing a hand over the Slytherin's pale hair._

 _"Neville?"_

 _"Hm?"_

 _"I'm sorry…I was wrong to torment you like that."_

 _"Things change, Draco. People change. Forgiveness isn't for you. It's for me. For the past to die, I have long-ago buried that pain." He gave the long-haired blond a smile. They fell silent once more. Draco finally sat up, drawing his knees to his chest._

 _"I'm not gay."_

 _"I know. Nor am I," Neville replied with a shrug._

 _"I—erm—"_

 _"You don't have to worry, Draco. What happened here, stays here. I will never reveal it without your consent."_

 _"No, it's not that—I mean—I appreciate that, but—actually, erm..." Draco's cheeks reddened. "I'd like to learn to do what you did. To do—I mean, to be—"_

 _"To be a dominant?"_

 _"Is that—is that something I can learn?"_

 _Neville's smile broadened._

"Why didn't Draco's posy have cherry blossoms in it, Neville?" Épiphanie asked.

"Because I wasn't asking him to accept my protection, although by virtue of the fact that I mentored his journey to becoming a dominant, I have ultimately given it.

Draco isn't a submissive. However, I laid him bare because he _needed_ it. I discovered quickly what his true nature was, but his upbringing and exposure to Voldemort had skewed his understanding of power and dominance. A good dominant must be inclined not only to take control, but to serve—and serve willingly. Anything else could be dangerous, and in fact potentially deadly."

Draco summoned the box that Diggy had given him when the group first arrived. "I have something for you." He knelt in front of Neville and held out the carved wooden box. Neville took it and opened the lid. His lips parted in surprise when he saw the object nestled in the velvet cushion.

"Is it—is it the same one?" he murmured, removing it from the box and holding up to the light. Seamus and Dean let out simultaneous gasps.

"What is that?" Épiphanie asked.

"It's a remembrall," said Dean.

"It's _my_ remembrall!" Neville whispered.

" _Madame Hooch, do you remember the flying class my first year when Longbottom fell off his broom? I had a laugh at his expense and stole one of his belongings. He was terribly humiliated. Épiphanie was nervous about having her first lesson in front of so many people. I remembered how I treated Neville that day and I only wanted Épiphanie to relax and trust her broom."_

"Wait! When we were in Professor McGonagall's office that day…Is that the—"

"It is. I had no idea that I still had it, until I emptied my old school trunk a few weeks ago. I hope that you will accept it as my way of thanking you for your forgiveness and friendship."

Neville nodded, not trusting his voice.


	11. Under the Bludgeoning of Chance

** _Portions of Draco and Épiphanie's subconscious conversation in the hospital is taken from Romeo & Juliet_

* * *

Épiphanie nodded her head absently to the driving reggae beat that filled the record store as she flipped through a stack of CDs, occasionally picking one for closer inspection. Today, she felt entirely in her element—comfortably dressed in an oversized hoodie and baggy sweatpants with her favorite sneakers. Her hair fell in twin French braids. She felt the sensation of being watched and turned.

"Hey, Seamus!" she smiled.

"Hiya, Épiphanie!" he exclaimed. "What are ye doin' here?"

"No training today," she shrugged. "Draco had a Quidditch League meeting at the Ministry, so I decided to come into the city. Wiltshire is pretty, but a girl like me needs tall buildings and traffic noise from time to time."

"Ah! Bored with life at The Manor already?" Seamus chuckled.

"Well, let's just say country life is _not_ for me. And I _don't_ live at the Manor, I live at Dragon Grove Players' Village. So, is this place responsible for that kickass reggae mix you threw down the other night?" She looked around the store.

"Yah! Dean thinks I spend too much money on records, but he seems to forget to complain after he sees the door receipts every week."

"I bet," Épiphanie laughed.

"Fancy joining me for elevenses?"

"Sure!"

"…and Hermione said, 'it's not Levio- _SAR,_ it's Levi- _OH-_ sa!" Seamus giggled.

Épiphanie laughed over a cup of coffee as Seamus regaled her with stories of some of the happier times her friends had at Hogwarts, like the incident in their Charms class, in which he'd caused a feather to explode.

"I can totally see her doing that. I can be intense that way myself on occasion, but I worried about her sometimes. Do you remember, she was _so_ outdone the first day in Potions class when Draco and I made a practically perfect Shrinking potion? After class she practically accused me of cheating.

"She didn't!"

"Well, we smoothed it over. I guess y'all old-heads still struggle with house prejudices. I think that's what inspired it, but I can understand her motivation. When you've been the top dog, it hurts to see the newcomer show you up." She sipped her coffee. "This is an interesting place," Épiphanie said, looking around the coffee house where they sat, and admiring its eclectic décor. Her eyes landed on the rainbow flag hanging in the window behind Seamus. He shrugged.

"Yer catholic, yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"The way ye responded when Hannah moved to sit with ye the other night. When she wrapped her arms around ye, ye looked right scundered."

"Oh. Heh. Well, it's not that. I mean, that's what I was taught, but that's not the way I think, obviously." She gestured between himself and her. "I was just kinda thrown off. Like I said, I've never."

"Ah. Well, ye've a right conundrum then." Seamus refreshed his tea.

"How's that?" Épiphanie asked.

"Because she _certainly_ wanted to try it on with ye. Hannah might be a sub, but Neville's spoiled her. Whatever she wants, she usually gets."

"Really? But Draco—"

"Aw, macushla! Draco would do whatever Neville asks of him. Ye didn't notice?"

"Well, I—but Draco's not—"

"Nah, Draco's no ponce, but—"

"Well, actually, I was going to say Draco's not a submissive."

"No, he's not, but I wouldn't be surprised to discover he's a switch. Besides, I know Neville. He's not the same wizard we grew up with. The old Neville was practically afraid of his own shadow. Since he slayed Nagini in the battle, he's gained a lot of confidence. I'm not saying tha's a bad thing. Neville's as caring and loyal as they come, but as a Dom, he's so convincin' he could sell ya the eye outta ye _head_! That was no simple reconciliation gift Draco gave him, returning his remembrall. That was a tribute, that was."

"A tribute?"

"A gift given to a Dominant to show one's honor and reverence."

Épiphanie was quiet. She fingered her spoon. She thought of the way Draco's behavior changed when he was in Neville's presence.

"Ah, don't worry, love." Seamus reached across the table and took her hand. "Ye know Draco's got the glad eye for ye. Even if Neville did ask him to let ye play with Hannah, he'd consider your feelings about it."

She nodded and gave a shrug. "So, Ginny and Dean, huh? What about you? Have you ever been with a woman?" Épiphanie gave him an inquisitive look.

"Oh, clutch me pearls, no, love!" Seamus pressed his hand to his chest and gave her a look of feigned astonishment. "Is tha' an offer?" he winked conspiratorially.

"Oh!" she let out a mock gasp. "Clutch my pearls! Without our doms' permission?" she laughed.

" _You_ in pearls?" Seamus rolled his eyes. "I can't picture it."

"Dahling! I'm the very picture of a devout Catholic Creole lady. Catch a sista on Easter Sunday!" she grinned.

"Now _tha'_ I kin believe!" he winked.

They left the coffee house and continued to talk as they made their way up the street towards the Underground.

"So, I _have_ to have a mixtape! Your set was off the hook, Shae!"

"Ye think so?"

"Absolutely! Nobody's ever asked you for a tape?"

"Well, one or two muggles have asked." He shrugged. "But I don't know. It's the music that keeps 'em comin' to tha club."

"You have a point. Soon as you start giving them out, folks will make copies for their friends," she replied thoughtfully.

"I'll still make ye one, though. Long as ye promise not to start pressing CDs in Malfoy's cellar," he teased. Épiphanie suddenly grabbed Seamus' arm. He looked at her strangely. "I was only kidding, love!"

"We're being followed. Keep walking," she said when he faltered and started to look over his shoulder.

"Shit. We're in a muggle street!" he hissed, his hand going immediately into his pocket. "We can't do magic! It's against the statute!"

"We need to find a place to apparate."

"I know. C'mon!" Seamus quickened his pace and Épiphanie followed him a few more yards up the street until they stepped into an alley between two tall buildings. "Behind the skip!" Seamus pulled her sleeve, but suddenly she felt herself being choked by the neck of her shirt as her hood was grabbed from behind.

She twisted around in time to see Seamus shoved roughly to the ground. Three young men about their age held him with one hand pinned behind his back, and his head pulled up by his hair. Seamus clutched at the hand that pulled his hair with the other.

"Your lot's not welcome 'round here!" said the one who had grabbed her shirt. He held her tightly about the waist and wrapped his fingers about her throat. The cool metal of her collar began to warm between his palm and her neck.

Épiphanie studied the group that had Seamus. They were all rather heavily built, wearing jeans, some ripped, and hoodies or leather jackets and sweatshirts. What caught her eye was that they all had clean-shaven heads and wore heavy boots. Her heart dropped.

 _Please don't speak, Seamus! Please don't speak!_

"Oh, yeah! What lot is tha'?" Seamus challenged.

"Bloody hell! The poofter's a _clover!_ " one of them said.

"What did ye call me!" Seamus growled. His head was pulled back further and he groaned.

Épiphanie took a breath. Her body trembled with the effort to control her magic. "We're just walking to the tube." She pulled at the hand around her throat. Her collar was getting hot. She squirmed. It wasn't safe to use magic here, and the balance of power was three on one.

"You his bodyguard, are ya?" His breath on her cheek smelled sour with beer. "She your bodyguard, faggot?"

"Let her go!" Seamus demanded. He was met with a punch to the face that sent blood pouring from his nose.

"Seamus!" Épiphanie shrieked. She elbowed the man holding her hard in the ribs and grabbed his crotch, squeezing hard.

"Oof! Fucking nigger dyke!" He shoved her down on the filthy pavement and kicked her hard in the ribs.

Épiphanie felt a searing pain that brought tears to her eyes. She gasped, and tried to crawl towards Seamus, who was being pummeled now. If she could grab him, they could apparate to safety. Just as her fingers reached out for his ankle, she felt a cracking pain in the back of her head and everything went blurry. She lost her grip on Seamus and her hands dragged over the rough pavement, broken glass and debris cutting into her palms, as she was pulled away from him. Hands tugged at her pants and she grabbed her waistband, kicking desperately at her attackers.

"…show her what it's like to be with a man…what the—"

" _Stupefy! Impedimenta! Flipendo!_ " Were those voices real? She blinked, trying to clear her vision.

"Seamus!" She gasped. A hand suddenly gripped hers, fingers tightly curling around hers, just as a hard blow landed against her back and she felt a searing pain in her chest. She lost her grip on Seamus' hand.

"Épiphanie, no!" There was a flash of green and everything went dark.

* * *

"Dean!" Draco exclaimed, as he and Harry stepped from the floo into the Leaky Cauldron. "Join us?" The wizards shook hands and headed to the bar.

"Hello, boys. Neville's upstairs for lunch. I'm sure he'd be delighted to have you join him." She smiled warmly and touched Draco's arm.

"That sounds excellent. Shall we, gentlemen?" Dean nodded and Harry shrugged. They followed Hannah up to a private dining room where Neville sat with a cup of tea and an open book.

"Harry, Dean, Draco! Do join me!" Neville set his book aside and stood, clasping all of their hands. "There's drinks on the sideboard."

"Did I see you earlier at the Ministry?" asked Harry taking a seat and helping himself to a cup of tea. Draco went to the sideboard and picked up a bottle of wine.

"Glass of Syrah, Neville?"

"Thank you, Draco. I can probably get away with a sip or two without becoming too befuddled before afternoon classes."

Draco poured two glasses of the dark red wine and handed one to Neville, giving his shoulder a squeeze before pulling out the chair beside him. Harry raised a brow, but no one appeared to notice.

"Just filling out some paperwork. It appears our petition to have the courtyard of Nightshade open onto Diagon Alley will be approved. They just want to do an inspection to be sure that muggles won't accidentally find their way through."

"That's brilliant!"

"Congratulations, Dean." Draco reached across the table to shake Dean's hand when suddenly the ring on his little finger burned.

"Thanks, Malfoy." Dean extended his hand.

Harry noticed that both wizards, suddenly drew back as they reached out to shake hands and Malfoy gave Thomas a hard stare.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"Could—could they be together?" Dean asked.

"They must be!" Draco exclaimed, grabbing Neville's wrist tightly.

"Draco?" Neville gave him a concerned look.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded.

"Épiphanie's in trouble!" Draco gasped.

"So's Seamus!" Dean said, leaping to his feet.

"What? How do you—" Harry began.

"Let's go!" Neville grabbed Dean's wrist.

Harry didn't have time to ask any more questions before Draco grabbed his arm and they all disapparated.

The quartet of wizards landed in a narrow London alley to find Seamus and Épiphanie being set upon by five large thugs. Three of them were beating a bloody Seamus, who was attempting to crawl away. He was reaching for Épiphanie, who was being dragged behind a garbage skip by the two others. She was kicking valiantly at them and trying to hold on to her pants as they tried to remove them. The fire escapes of the surrounding buildings rattled violently as if they were about to come crashing down.

Dean, seemingly forgetting his magical powers, hurled himself at Seamus' attackers. He grabbed one of the men, just as he raised his boot to stomp the Irishman and threw him against the wall, punching him hard in the face repeatedly until he collapsed. Harry and Neville cast spells that immediately incapacitated the other two. Draco hurled a stunner that knocked out one of Épiphanie's assailants and raised his wand towards the other just as the entire space filled with green light.

"Épiphanie, no!" he screamed as the man fell dead in front of him.

The silence in the alley was deafening. Draco blasted the garbage skip out of the way and launched himself at Épiphanie, falling to his knees at her side. She was barely conscious and when he lifted her head, he felt the large lump at the back of her skull.

"Merlin and Salazar!" he murmured. Then he felt sticky heat of blood on his trousers as he knelt. His eyes fell upon the bloody knife near her back and he let out an unearthly howl.

"Neville, Dean! Get them to St. Mungo's I'll deal with this mess!" Harry commanded. He cast several patronuses and sent them to the ministry. Next, he levitated the garbage skip to obscure the alley opening and cast a charm to keep away any curious onlookers. Neville and Dean disappeared with Draco, Seamus and Épiphanie.

* * *

Draco held tightly to Neville's hand as they sat in the waiting room of the strange building. The smell of antiseptic offended his nose, as did the unbelievable quiet of the place. The mediwizards at St. Mungo's had informed them that her injuries required surgery and recommended that she be transferred to a muggle hospital.

"No! No! What the hell do you _mean_ she has to go to a _muggle_ hospital?" he screamed at the wizard.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Glapion-Shacklebolt has been stabbed and has a punctured lung that is collapsed. These are non-magical injuries that are best treated by a healer trained in muggle surgery. We have healers at University College Hospital who are highly proficient in this type of surgery, and I've already contacted one. She's The Minister's Daughter. Everything possible will be done to care for her."

Harry entered the waiting area, looking bothered. He was followed by Ron and Dean, the latter of whom immediately sat down on Draco's other side and patted his arm gently. Ron looked at them curiously.

"Any word on Épiphanie?" Harry asked.

Neville shook his head. "The only thing the healer said was that she had something called a pneumothorax. How's Seamus?"

"He'll be okay. He has a concussion, broken nose, a couple of fractured ribs and lots of cuts and bruises—the doctors want to keep him overnight to make sure his head is okay. He's not happy about that though. He doesn't quite understand muggle medicine either, but I promised him it was for the best and that he'd be closer to Épiphanie here than at St. Mungo's. He's really torn up about what happened."

"What _did_ happen?" Neville asked.

"According to Seamus, he ran into Épiphanie in a record shop and they went for lunch in Soho. They were walking to the tube station when Épiphanie told him they were being followed, so they went into the alley hoping to apparate, but they were grabbed before they could do anything. Apparently, they're some type of muggle gang that preys on minorities and gays. Seamus said they made homophobic remarks and called him a clover. They also hurled some epithets at Épiphanie when she tried to fight them off. He doesn't remember much after they started beating him, except he was trying to grab hold of her to try to apparate. Then we arrived." Dean retold Seamus' account of what happened. "Harry why did the muggle police question Seamus?"

"What?" Draco's head snapped up. "Why?"

"It's over my head. Kingsley ordered the Aurors to call them in. Had the one attacker not been killed, we might have been able to obliviate them and create a convincing cover story, but…"

"What's going to happen to Épiphanie?" Draco asked anxiously. He squeezed Neville's hand until both wizards' knuckles were white.

"Nothing right now. The first priority is to make sure that she's physically okay."

"But—"

"I don't know, Draco. I'm not a Senior Auror. Kingsley has Gawain Robards himself officially heading up this investigation. Ron and I were sent to oversee Épiphanie's security detail."

The door opened and they looked up to see Kingsley entering the room with Angelique, whose face was puffy from crying. Before anyone could speak, a short thin man wearing surgical scrubs entered the room. He looked around the room.

"Are you all here for Miss Shacklebolt?" he asked.

"Yes," said Kingsley. The doctor closed the door and drew a wand from a slender pocket on the leg of his pants, waving it.

" _Muffliato._ " He turned to the expectant wizards and The Minister's wife. "Épiphanie is critical, but stable. She suffered a pneumothorax as a result of a puncture wound to the back, between the seventh and eighth ribs on the right side. We've repaired the injury and inserted a chest tube to remove the air in the chest cavity, and reinflate that lung. Since we are in a muggle facility, she must remain for a little while under that treatment. I have already cast a spell in order to slow the flow of blood from the wound. I like to take it in steps so that my colleagues don't become suspicious. She should be good as new by the end of the week. Give us a little while longer, Minister, and you and your wife will be able to see her." He shook Kingsley's hand and accepted a hug from Angelique before nodding at the others and taking his leave.

"Harry." Kingsley indicated for Harry to follow him into the corridor.

"What's with the hand holding?" Ron asked, suspiciously when they'd gone.

"Weasley! Show a little decorum in the presence of The Minister's wife!" Draco snapped, jerking his head in Angelique's direction. He released Neville's hand and went to her, taking her hand gently in his as he sat.

"Madame." He conjured a silk handkerchief and passed it to her. "I am told that the doctor is the top healer available."

"I'm—I'm still learning all of this. I—is he a wizard, like you all?" she sniffled. "He said something about a spell to slow the blood. I don't—this is all so far beyond anything I've ever—it's not like my—"

"He's a wizard, madame, like us. I believe the spell he refers to is _Vulnera Sanentur._ It's a healing spell. It slows the flow of blood, removes any residue and closes the wounds."

"How—how do you know it? Have you ever—"

"I erm—no, ma'am. I—I've been healed by the spell myself after being struck by a curse that this spell counters."

"But they said Épiphanie was stabbed, she—"

"She was not hit by any curses. The people who attacked her and Seamus weren't magical." Angelique wailed, softly. Draco sighed and took a breath. "I know it's difficult, Madame, and I'm not sure what you've been told about our laws, but wizards and witches are prohibited from using magic among muggles—erm non-magical people—and I'm sure that Seamus and Épiphanie thought that they could escape without using magic. She would never intentionally harm anyone. I'm sure of it."

Angelique did not reply to this, but turned to Draco, burying her head in his chest, and began to sob. He nervously held the distraught woman, trying desperately to maintain control of his own emotions. Kingsley and Harry returned to the room a few minutes later and The Minister helped his wife to her feet, quietly whispering reassurances to her, all the while leveling a stern gaze at Draco. They reached the door before Kingsley looked back at Draco.

"Are you not coming, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, yes of course!" He leapt to his feet to follow.

"Draco."

He turned to Neville with a curious and agitated look. "Your robes." Neville held out his hand. Draco hurriedly removed the robe, which had become stiff with dried blood, His tailored pants and shirt underneath were largely free of stains and Draco adjusted his cravat, smoothing his waistcoat as he followed Angelique's parents.

They entered a small glassed-in room about halfway down the corridor. Angelique lay motionless on the narrow bed. Draco was startled by the machines beeping around her and the bizarre, clear plastic contraption with a tube running from it that was strapped over her nose and mouth. There was an angry bruise along her cheekbone and the knuckles on her hands were raw. He dug the nails of one hand into the palm of the other as he watched her mother swoon at her father's side.

 _Ma Zirondelle! Please don't leave me! I can't live without you!_

 _Why would I leave you, Draco? You are me, and I am you._

"Épiphanie?" he fell to his knees at her bedside, and took her hand. "Merlin, please tell me I'm not imagining this!"

 _Are you really there, my love?_

 _We were on a muggle street! Please don't blame Shae. We couldn't use magic!_

Kingsley and Angelique stared at Draco in astonishment as he clung to her hand.

"Draco?" Angelique looked at him curiously. "Can she hear you?"

"I'm here, Ma Zirondelle." He squeezed her hand. _It's okay, love. It will be okay._

"He's distraught, Angelique. Mr. Malfoy—" Kingsley began.

 _They were beating Seamus! There was nothing he could do! He couldn't reach his wand! We tried to apparate!_

The monitors began to beep insistently as her heart rate accelerated.

"Shhhh, please calm down, love!" Draco's voice was barely a whisper. _Don't worry about that now. Seamus will be okay. I love you so much! Please try to calm yourself. You're upsetting your mother._

"Kingsley, wait! Look!" Angelique grabbed her husband's arm as he stepped towards Draco. She pointed to the monitors which were beginning to quiet as Épiphanie's heart rate returned to normal. "She can hear him! My God! She can hear him!"

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave now," said a nurse from the doorway.

Draco squeezed Épiphanie's hand and kissed her fingers.

 _Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat. The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay than will to go._

 _Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt's up to the day. O! now be gone; more light and light it grows._

"Rest, my love. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity that may convey my greetings, love, to thee."

* * *

Draco refused to leave the hospital, returning reluctantly to the waiting area each time the nurses shooed him out of Épiphanie's room. Neville purchased him some fresh clothing, and took turns with Dean to sit with him and check on Seamus. Harry and Ron had been tasked with providing for her security and one of them remained outside her door at all times. Hermione and Ginny arrived with a meal sent by Mrs. Weasley and Neville encouraged Draco to eat a little.

"What's going on?" Draco asked Harry. He saw the doctor enter the room and draw the curtain around Épiphanie's bed as he made his way up the corridor to peer through the glass wall at her.

"I don't know." Harry turned around. "He didn't seem agitated, and there's no nurses following him, so it can't be an emergency."

Draco pushed open the door. He felt the magic in the air the moment he stepped in, and drew back the curtain. The doctor lowered his wand.

"If you're going to remain, please pull the curtain. We don't want the muggles to see." The doctor looked at him calmly. Draco held his gaze a moment, and turned. He met Harry's eyes briefly. The young Auror gave him a nod and Draco pulled the curtain. The doctor nodded and lifted his wand once more. He waved it, and the thin blanket and sheet drew back.

" _Vulnera Sanentur!_ " His voice was melodic as he carefully moved his wand over Épiphanie's wound.

Draco's breath hitched as the beeping of the machines intensified briefly and Épiphanie stirred lightly. He looked at the healer expectantly.

"That is a good thing. She will probably awaken at some point tomorrow. We'll remove the chest tube then." He gave Draco a smile. "We are fortunate that this wound was not magical in nature. Few survive the curse that this spell was intended to counter."

"I have every faith in the spell. As I stand here, a survivor, so shall she." Draco turned his gaze to Épiphanie, and missed the look of shock on the wizard's face.

"Is everything alright, doctor?" Harry asked, seeing the look of disquiet on the wizard's face as he left the room. He looked over his shoulder, but the curtain was still drawn around the bed, and he could see neither Draco nor Épiphanie.

"The gentleman there, that's…Lucius Malfoy's son, yes?"

"That's right. Why do you ask?"

"He's familiar with the spell—the healing spell. He would have been cursed—"

"By Sectumsempra."

"That's a relatively obscure curse. Most Aurors aren't familiar with—" He looked at Harry, who gave him a measured stare.

"Mr. Malfoy and I became well acquainted with the curse and the counter-spell on the same night," Harry said, coolly. "The war has left more than just myself and my comrades with scars sir."

"I—yes, well—erm, good evening, Mr. Potter." The doctor turned and hurried down the hall.

"It doesn't make sense, Harry." Ron stood beside Harry and stared down the corridor to the waiting area where Draco dozed with his head on Neville's shoulder. "How did you all get there so quickly? How did you even know where to go?"

"I dunno, Ron. Draco and I met Dean and Neville at the Leaky Cauldron after our meeting at Magical Games and Sports. We were just sitting down and Draco was congratulating Dean on getting the portal approved for his club, when they both suddenly drew back and said Seamus and Épiphanie were in trouble. They seemed to know that they were together. Neville and I went side-along with them. You're not still on about what happened that night at the club are you?"

"Harry, he drew his wand on _me_ when Neville had _his_ girlfriend hemmed in a corner! Doesn't that seem odd to you? Look!" he gestured at the pair in the waiting area at the end of the corridor. "Is he really _sleeping_ on Neville's shoulder? Draco Malfoy?"

"Ron, let it go, mate. This is not our case. Our only responsibility is to keep an eye on Épiphanie. Why don't you take a walk, maybe go home and catch a nap. You don't have to take my place for another few hours."

Ron glowered at Harry for a moment before he turned and stalked in the direction of the elevators. Instead of taking the lift to the lobby, Ron got off one floor down and made his way to Seamus' room. The usually bubbly Irishman was moving stiffly as Dean helped him into his shirt. His torso was bound tightly in a bandage and his face was purple about the eyes. He slapped Dean's hands away as he fussed with the oxford.

"I can still button a shirt, 'cushla. Ye'll have plenty o' time ta baby me when we get home." He captured Dean's chin in his hand before he moved away, and gave him a peck. "'M countin' on it!"

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt!" Ron faltered when he saw them.

"Ron! Come in, mate! Is Épiphanie okay?" Seamus sat on the edge of the bed and continued to button his shirt. Ron noticed a burn-like mark on Seamus' wrist as a slender bracelet adorned with a single sapphire slid over it.

"It looks like she'll be okay. She hasn't woken up yet, but the healer—erm—doctor says that she should open her eyes any minute. Her mother is with her right now."

"Oh, tha's grand! I've been so worried. I feel responsible fer this whole affair. 'S me they were slaggin' on." Seamus sagged against Dean, his eyes on the floor. Dean gently wrapped an arm around him. "They thought she was too. Called her a dyke and a—a—" He looked at Dean.

"It's alright, my darling." Dean kissed his temple. Ron gave them an inquiring look.

"I don't understand."

"They called her a—a…nigger, Ron." A shadow crossed Dean's features as he spoke. "It's a hateful term that muggles use to describe us—blacks. It's like…mudblood."

Ron's eyes widened in shock. "I—I'm—" Dean waved his hand.

"I—I kept hoping that she would disapparate and leave me. I never wanted—should'a stunned 'em—I couldn't reach my wand!" Tears poured from his still somewhat puffy eyes.

"It's okay, love. What could you do? There were three of them on you. Both of you fought valiantly. You did. I saw you trying to reach her. We all did." Dean stroked Seamus' back gently.

"Um, Dean?" Ron began.

"Yeah?"

"How did—how did you and Draco know that they were in trouble?" Dean looked startled at the question and he stiffened.

"I—uh. We just—Seamus and I have this connection. I just know when he needs me. I supposed Draco has the same sort of relationship with Épiphanie. Haven't you ever noticed that they seem able to have conversations without speaking?" He rubbed his thumb against the silver band on his little finger.

"Are you certain there's nothing else you—never mind. I should know by now, that magical bonds between those in love are not like—" Ron shoved his hands in his pockets, fingers curling around the deluminator that he'd inherited from Dumbledore. "I should go."

"Ron? I was half-blind and delirious from being kicked in the head, but I know I saw a flash of green. Did someone—I mean, did I?"

"No, mate." Ron heaved a sigh. "It was Épiphanie." He gave a troubled shrug and left the room.

* * *

The Prime Minister glowered at the painting on the wall opposite his desk. Normally, he only had to deal with the strange image of the white haired man speaking to him once in a while, particularly since that bizarre business barely one year into his office. Apparently, the efficient gentleman who'd briefly served as his assistant was now the Minister of this odd otherworld in which magic was supposed to exist. The Prime Minister should have been suspicious from the start that a member of the peerage would elect to accept such a position. As sorry as he was to see Kingsley go at the time, he figured that the job had become tedious and he'd moved on to another challenge. He was quite shocked to learn that this man had been acting covertly all along, but grudgingly accepted the explanation of the entire ruse when he learned that an end had come to all of the strange and disturbing occurrences for which he had been blamed by his constituents for not taking swift enough action to address.

Now the painting had come to life in the middle of the day, to announce Kingsley Shacklebolt's impending arrival. He hoped that this other minister was not arriving to bring him more bad news. He had enough on his plate at the moment, with the news of a vicious brawl between a gang of white supremacists and several youngsters in Soho that had left one of the thugs dead, a young Irish lad badly beaten and a black girl in critical condition with a stab wound. Even after more than a year, the public was still on edge about the David Copeland attacks, and here was an anti-gay, anti-Irish, anti-Black assault just steps from Old Compton Street!

He turned to the fireplace in anticipation, when a knock came at his door.

"Enter!" he snapped, testily. Now was not the time for interruptions.

"Sir, Lord Worthing is here to see you about an urgent matter. He says that he is expected." His secretary appeared very agitated.

"Yes, yes. Send him in—and push back whatever pending appointments that I have. Thank you."

The secretary withdrew and shortly, Kingsley Shacklebolt entered his office looking tired and unsettled.

"Minister."

"Kingsley—ah, Minister." The Prime Minister extended his hand, and Kingsley gave it a firm and curt shake. "Please, have a seat. What brings you to see me today? Shall I call for tea?"

"No, thank you, Tony. This business in Soho—" Kingsley began.

"It was quite a terrible incident. I do hope that's not the reason that you've come to my office today." He smiled, but his expression faltered when he took in the dark look on the other man's face.

"The young woman who was assaulted is my daughter."

"Your what—I mean to say—oh, Dear Lord!" the Prime Minister declared. "I had no idea—well of course I would have no idea that—is she—"

"I am told that she will recover. Her condition has improved considerably. As you well know, we have access to forms of healing that your people do not."

"Minister Shacklebolt, you have my sincerest regrets! I will ensure that our law enforcement will pursue the matter with utmost attention."

"Minister, there is a matter regarding the incident that must be handled delicately. The young man who died—"

The Prime Minister sat up. Reports of the incident said that the medical examiner could find no specific cause of death. There was only a superficial head wound that was assumed to have been caused when he hit the ground.

"We know that the cause of death was magical in nature. We can't be certain, as we haven't had an opportunity to speak to her, but our people believe that Épiphanie may have been responsible for his death."

The Prime Minister sank back in his seat. "I see," he said, slowly. "Well, this does certainly change things, doesn't it?"

"I beg your pardon?" Kingsley sat up now.

"Well, when the clash was done, only your people were left standing. In fact, my intel says that your daughter and the other young man had already been spirited away by the time law enforcement arrived, and they found only one young man standing in the alleyway with a garbage skip blocking the way. Interestingly, even the CCTV seemed to malfunction at some point, so there is practically no footage of the attack."

"Are you suggesting that my child and her friend are responsible for attacking _five,_ clearly armed Neo-Nazis?"

"On the surface it would seem rather absurd, wouldn't it? But I am sure that you can appreciate that these are no _ordinary_ young people."

"We have _laws_ regarding the use of magic in the presence of your kind, Minister!" Kingsley bristled. "I know Seamus Finnegan personally. He was tortured during _our_ war for refusing to do harm to the magical children of _your kind!_ Neither he nor, Épiphanie would instigate an attack on anyone without provocation."

"And yet, still a man is dead."

"He is dead because he and his cohorts _attacked_ my daughter and her friend because she was black, and he was Irish, and they were leaving a gay-friendly establishment! Let us not forget other recent events on that very street, Minister!" Kingsley was on his feet and the other minister was taken aback by the imposing figure of the six-foot-two gentleman towering over him. Registering the look of alarm on his face, The Minister of Magic resumed his seat and pressed his palms together, closing his eyes briefly before he spoke again. "The surviving assailants have no knowledge of the death of their cohort. They assume that he died when he fell and struck his head struggling with my daughter. My people would like permission to speak with the medical examiner prior to the inquest, in order to be sure that his report corroborates that fact." He gave the other man a pointed stare. "I should not like to remind you that the relationship we have goes beyond ensuring the peaceful co-existence of both of our worlds. I was here to protect _you_ at a time when a man very much like David Copeland, but _infinitely_ more dangerous, was terrorizing both of our realms. With that in mind, I am asking you to extend some level of mercy to my daughter. She and her friend were so horribly injured because they tried to place the safety of our communities above their own."

The Prime Minister pursed his lips then let out a long sigh. "I shall see that the appropriate people are contacted. You have our complete cooperation in the matter."


	12. Contractual Obligations

"Ugh! This is swill!" Draco exclaimed, grimacing at the taste of the over-boiled coffee. He tossed the paper cup into the nearest waste bin and began to pace. He went to the window and looked out at the city, seeing nothing.

"Draco, you look awful. A shower and a shave would do you a world of good, my friend. Are you sure you wouldn't like to—"

"I'm not leaving, Neville. I appreciate your concern. The healer performed the final incantation late last night. She could awaken any moment, and I want to be here."

"Very well."

"Forgive me." Draco turned to him. "I am weary. I should not have been so brusque with you, sir. Have I not expressed my gratitude for your constant vigil?"

"Think nothing of it. However, at some point you _must_ rest. It does neither you nor her, any good to make yourself ill."

Draco nodded reluctantly. Neville drew him into an embrace and lightly stroked his hair, quietly murmuring reassurances. The Slytherin rested his head on the other wizard's shoulder, amazed once again at how the Gryffindor seemed so easily to calm him and allow him to be vulnerable in a way no one else could.

The door of the waiting area opened. Ron Weasley stared at Draco and Neville in shock. Draco's head was turned away, but Neville met his eyes with a placid expression. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but something in his friend's eyes stopped him. He coughed, and turned to a side table that held a kettle and a coffee pot.

 _Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss._

Draco's knees buckled. Neville caught him before he hit the floor. Ron dropped his cup as he spun around at the disturbance. Draco's face was pale and his eyes wide as he gripped Neville's shirt sleeve.

"Draco?" Neville pushed him towards the nearest chair.

"Let love enter in friendship's name!" He exclaimed, and fought off his friend's ministrations, struggling to his feet. "She's awake!"

He staggered down the corridor as Angelique emerged, summoning nurses and other attendants who rushed into the room.

"Draco." Épiphanie's voice was barely a whisper. She pulled away the oxygen mask that covered her face and attempted to sit up, grimacing at the pain that shot through her side and chest. Her eyes searched the small throng of people, until she saw him standing in the doorway.

"Just lie back, love." One of the nurses gently took her shoulders and attempted to push her back against the mattress.

"Take your hands off of me, please." Épiphanie's voice suddenly gained strength.

"Now, you shouldn't exert yourself, love. Just—" Épiphanie fixed the woman with a cold stare.

"Do as she says, Dragonfly. I am here." Draco strode into the room and moved to her bedside, taking her hand and kissing it.

Épiphanie reluctantly endured the examination and the astonished comments regarding her incredible recovery in the course of just three days. She clung to Draco's hand. The doctor arrived just as Kingsley entered the room. He shooed the nurses and technicians and drew the curtain to give them privacy. Ron and Harry stood in the corridor, blocking the door.

"The spell has worked. There may be some scarring, but some dittany can help with that. You will be stiff and sore for a few more days, but this too shall pass."

"When can I go home?" Épiphanie asked.

"In the interest of muggle understanding of medicine, I would like you to stay one more night—just for appearance's sake. You may go home in the morning. I strongly suggest that you avoid strenuous tasks for at least a week or two—that includes flying—and no apparating or Quidditch for at least three-to-four weeks."

"No _flying? No Quidditch?_ " she complained.

" _This_ is what she's worried about!" Angelique exclaimed. "You really are a professional athlete, aren't you?"

"You will sit out the Tutshill and Kenmare matches," said Draco.

"But if we lose, that will put us behind Holyhead in the standings!" Épiphanie argued. "I'm not sitting around Malfoy Manor _or_ 3 The Boltons for a whole month!"

"Épiphanie, child, listen to reason. You need some time to rest." Kingsley insisted. Épiphanie, flopped back against the bed, crossing her arms, and rolled her eyes.

"If I may, Minister, Madame," Draco interrupted. "I think I might have an idea which will suit everyone."

* * *

"You cheated," Épiphanie gave Draco a pinch as they disembarked the private jet outside the hangar. A limousine awaited them.

"No, I am fulfilling the terms of your contract. This was a request that was made by the player." Draco smiled mischievously. The driver opened the door of the car and a woman stepped out, wearing an officious-looking blue trench coat. Tendrils of black hair escaped the bun she wore. She smiled brightly.

"Iolanthe?" Épiphanie queried excitedly as they approached the car.

"Auror Potter, ma'am. New Orleans Division of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I will be your security escort while you are in the city. Welcome to New Orleans." The young woman gave a slight bow, pursing her lips in a futile attempt to suppress a smile. She began to laugh when Épiphanie grabbed her hands and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Wow! Look at you! Congratulations!" she squealed. "You remember Draco, Neville and Dean?"

"Yeah! How're y'all?" Neville and Dean gave her a hug. Draco kissed her fingertips.

"This is Hannah Abbott and Seamus Finnegan."

"Welcome to N'Awlins."

"Did ye say yer name is _Potter?_ " Seamus asked, staring at her curiously.

"One and the same!" Iolanthe replied.

"Iolanthe and Harry are distant cousins, Seamus. They share an ancestor who was one of America's original Aurors. Her brother and some other witches and wizards from the Mystic Krewe of Hallows helped us to take down The Servants and rescue my wand."

" _Wicked_! Pleasure ta meet ye!" Seamus gave her a warm hug.

"Aww! He's cute! C'mon!" They all climbed into the limousine.

* * *

"Wow! It's so lovely!" Hannah exclaimed when they emerged from the DMLE offices after having their wands checked and their identities confirmed. They walked along the vibrant street, decorated for the carnival season, taking in all of the activity and the numerous businesses, comparing them to Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley until they reached the entrance to The Three Brothers Tavern. Seamus and Hannah gasped when they took in the moving mural depicting the _Tale of the Three Brothers_.

They took seats in the same large booth where the group had dined on their first visit to the pub and Ignace burst out of the kitchen to greet them. They introduced the newcomers to his famous gumbo, finishing the meal with King Cake, from which Seamus found the baby, and they teased him about his Irish luck.

"So what was tha' back there at Magical Law Enforcement?" asked Seamus.

"Yeah, why did they cast a revealing spell on all of us?" Hannah added.

"Oh, that's been in place since Seraphina Picquery was President, back in the twenties," said Iolanthe. "Have y'all heard of Newton Scamander?"

"Oh, sure! He wrote _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!_ He's a famous magizoologist." Hannah exclaimed. "There's a portrait of him in the Hufflepuff commons."

"Isn't Luna Lovegood dating his grandson?" asked Neville.

"That's what I heard. Rolf, I think."

"Hm! Well, anyway, Scamander came to the United States in 1926 to study magical creatures in America. He was carrying a number of magical creatures in his luggage, and some of them escaped into New York City. So there was this whole mess because at the time there was this no-maj group called the New Salem Philanthropic Society that was out to expose the magical community and have us destroyed."

"Seriously?" Épiphanie was stunned.

"Oh, yeah! Magical relations were a hot mess—straight up like The Cold War."

"What's a cold war?" asked Draco.

"Tell you later. So what happened?" Épiphanie asked.

"Well MACUSA got involved and Newt had to round up all the creatures, which he did, but he was blamed for releasing an absolutely terrifying obscurus that originated from this boy named Credence Barebone. They managed to destroy it, but the whole matter was exacerbated by Percival Graves, who was head of the DMLE at the time. He'd tried to have Scamander _executed_ along with Porpentina Goldstein—she's married to Newt now, but she had been in the Auror office of MACUSA until the Second Salemers got her demoted. Anyway, the obscurial nearly destroyed all of New York City and a few people were killed before it was stopped. In the aftermath, Newton Scamander revealed that Percival Graves was actually—get this—Gellert _Grindelwald!_ "

"Merlin and Godric!" Dean swore. " _The_ Gellert Grindelwald?"

"Yup! He'd disguised himself as Graves and infiltrated MACUSA in order to get his hands on the obscurus. He'd been manipulating Credence all along to help him find it, but he didn't even know that it was Credence who was the obscurial. So, making a long story short, since then, all witches and wizards entering the country _legally…_ " She looked pointedly at her friends. "…must submit to a check of their identity."

"That's crazy!" Hannah exclaimed. "Wonder why we never learned all of this in History of Magic?"

"Because tha' many people awake and listenin' might'a startled Binns back from the grave," said Seamus. The group broke out laughing.

* * *

"Épiphanie! Where you been, muh bébé! Word on the street was you fled the country!" Épiphanie was enveloped in a bear hug by the large bald man in a New Orleans Saints sweatshirt and baggy jeans. He lifted her off her feet.

"Easy, Vaughn! Ya girl just got out of the hospital!"

"Unh-unh! For what?"

"Got jumped. Broke a rib and got shanked in the back. Punctured a lung."

"Say whaaat! Somebody got the drop on _you?_ " She turned and lifted the hem of her cropped shirt to show him the scars along her ribcage and side. "Yo', where dat nigga at? Me an' da boys'll set that shit _straight!_ " Vaughn's face grew hard as he spoke. He had become friends with her after she kept him out of jail, having warned him not to go riding with Jaylon Ray and them the night they got popped for robbing a liquor store in which the owner was killed. He'd looked after her in school and on the streets after that.

"Boi, stop!" she punched his arm. "It's all good. They _already_ got done. Besides you ain't got no passport and all this happened in England. You gon' let me and my peeps in?"

The bouncer looked over her shoulder to where Draco stood scowling beside Neville, Hannah, Seamus and Dean. Iolanthe and another Auror stood beside the car. He laughed.

"Girl, where you get them white boys from? They look a little lightweight to me."

"Vaughn! C'mon, man. First off, every last one of them got more street cred where they come from than most of the dudes up in there frontin'. Trust me on that—including my boy Dean and his boo. I met them all at school over there. They're the ones who got that situation _straight_."

Vaughn looked them over again. They were definitely not American. The few whites that ever ventured out to their neck of the woods tended to dress like wannabe hip-hop stars. This group looked like they had stepped out of a fashion magazine. The long-haired blond was carrying a walking stick with a jeweled snake's head and wearing some seriously expensive threads, the likes of which he knew did not come off a rack, as was the taller blond with the long-legged girl at his side. He noticed that both of the blonds, as well as the only brotha in the group all wore matching pinkie rings. He knew Épiphanie was very selective about her circle of friends. She didn't have many, owing to her ability to read people. So what was this crew all about? He wondered. The rings said they were part of some kind of exclusive syndicate. He wondered if they might be moving weight.

"Aight, girl, but you keep an eye on yo' peeps. You know don't too many white boys be up in here, and Katey don't like no mess."

"Katey Red's here? Yass!"

"Oh, that's right! You been gone. Yeah, she got her a new big ole girl named Big Freedia too. Bitch is baad!"

"Really? Alright now! It's about to go _down!_ My folks don't know anything about bounce. That's why I brought them!" Épiphanie waved them over. "Vaughn, this is Neville, Hannah, Seamus and Dean. And this is Draco. Y'all this is Vaughn Dumas. We grew up together."

"Draco? That yo' _real_ name, bro?"

"It is." Draco gave him a disdainful look, and Épiphanie draped his arm over her shoulder. The action was not lost on Vaughn. He looked Draco over, taking in the couture silk turtleneck, Japanese denim jeans and leather trench. "Aight then, Draco tha Dragon! That's some hustla shit right there! So what's up with them rings? Y'all movin' weight?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about," said Draco, pursing his lips.

Épiphanie laughed. "C'mon, Vaughn! You know that ain't how I roll!"

"Well? How does she roll?" Vaughn winked at Draco, who continued to eye him with derision. Seconds passed and a slow and malevolent smile moved across his face.

"I'd tell you," Draco tapped Vaughn's broad chest with the walking stick. "But then I'd have to kill you." With that, he allowed Épiphanie to pull him inside the club.

Despite its industrial exterior, the nightclub was extremely well appointed. The deejay booth sat on a high platform behind a stage at the far end of the large space, illuminated by effects lighting. There was an expansive dance floor below it, marked by a high railing with a ledge where patrons could set their drinks, rather than take them onto the floor. There were two bars. On one side, the bar was backed by a kitchen that served nachos, tapas and bowls of cheewees, a popular Louisiana snack similar to Cheetos ®. Servers streamed back and forth to the long bar on the opposite wall, providing bottle service to the VIP tables, making a fancy show of pouring champagne for those so inclined to pay for it.

Épiphanie greeted several people as they made their way to a raised banquette behind the purchased VIP seating areas to the area reserved for _invited_ guests of the club.

"How do you know all these people?" asked Hannah.

"I don't. I went to school with some. Others know me largely by reputation."

"Must be _some_ reputation!" Seamus exclaimed.

They sat down, and a woman in a dress that clung to her curves and barely covered her backside arrived, carrying a bottle of Cristal topped with sparklers. She poured flutes for all of them. Neville slouched and assumed a bored expression, his arm draped over Hannah's shoulder. Seamus grabbed Dean to go to the dance floor. Draco pulled Épiphanie into his lap.

"Hey! Hey, y'all! The Little Marie is in the house! Épiphanie Glapion where you at, girl?" The deejay called out over the music. A general shout went out over the dancefloor and a spot illuminated their seating area as the beat of the music sped up with the lyricists spilling a call-and-response flow. Épiphanie waved somewhat reluctantly. "Aw, come on, girl! You know you wanna get some'a this! Get on down here and put some _roots_ on it!"

"It appears that your public is calling," Draco ran a hand over her thigh.

"You okay with that?" she looked at Draco, wiggling a bit on his leg. He shrugged.

"Alright, then! Come on, Hannah! I'ma show you how we bounce ova here!"

Épiphanie grabbed Hannah's hand and dragged her out to the floor. The clubgoers cleared a space. She grabbed her skirt and pulled it up to the top her thighs, bending her knees.

"Do what I do." She directed Hannah. Épiphanie set her feet in a wide stance, dropped into a half squat and rolled her hips, slowly, swaying back and forth. "Aight, girl! You got it! You ready? We finna speed this up!" She bounced, giving a jerk of her hips. "Bounce it like you ridin' your man hard!"

The crowd began to cheer as Épiphanie added drops and bounced back up, holding her arms akimbo. Her skirt fluttered on her round backside as she bounced from side to side. She walked her bounce in a circle and Hannah began to follow her moves. Épiphanie spotted Seamus on the edge of the crowd, watching in fascination. She grabbed him, pulling him onto the floor as another general shout rang out. He grabbed her hips and matched her moves bounce for bounce.

"Awww, shit! Go white boy!" the MC called out. The crowd chanted. "Go white boy! Go white boy! Go white boy! Bounce! Bounce! Bounce! Shawty cuttin' the fuck up!"

The music changed again, and Épiphanie waved some of the girls she knew from school onto the floor as she grabbed her foot and pulled it over her head into a leg extension and collapsed hard to the floor into a split where she rolled her hips, before pushing up on her hands and feet, shaking impossibly. She pulled into a squat and worked her hips in a circle.

The music changed to a somewhat slower beat and Épiphanie returned to where Draco and Neville sat watching the spectacle with expressions of mild admiration. She pulled Draco to his feet and dragged him out onto the floor, pressing herself up against him and moving to the music. Draco wrapped himself around her, oblivious to the stares of the strangers that surrounded them, and rocked to the beat the way they had done two winters ago at Antares Hall when she'd completely unwound him in front of Harry Potter himself.

She held on to him as she slid herself down into a bouncing crouch and worked her way back up, sliding her ass against him. She beckoned to Dean, who was standing at the edge of the crowd. He joined them, pressing her between them. Draco nipped her ear as Dean kissed her neck.

Neville sat taking in all of the activity around him. Dean and Draco moved in concert with Épiphanie as she teased them both. Seamus and Hannah also danced together as one, though he was not quite as demonstrative with her as Draco seemed to be allowing Dean to be with his girlfriend.

"You want another drink, bébé?" a waitress with an impossibly curvaceous shape leaned over him. Her ample bosom was so close, if he inclined his head an inch, he'd be resting on it.

"I am well, thank you, love." She leaned against the banquette with one knee on the seat, her leg against his.

"Wow, I love your accent!" Neville smiled and placed a hand on the back of her thigh, but kept his eyes on the dance floor. Hannah looked at him over Seamus' shoulder. She licked her lips.

"That your girl?" the waitress asked, following his gaze. She shifted, placing herself practically in his lap.

"She is." Neville slid his hand over the waitress' silky stockings, watching Hannah as he did so. She slid her hands down Seamus' back.

"The drinks are free for y'all, my bébé. I can get you another bottle."

"Ah, no, love. I have plans later which necessitate sobriety." He looked her up and down. His hand went higher, disappearing under her skirt. Hannah grabbed Seamus' ass.

"Well, alright then! Can I come?" She pressed up against him. Neville chuckled.

"I don't think you're ready for that, love." He pinched her hard on her ass.

"Ey, baby! Can we get another bottle of champagne!" called out a rangy looking man in an oversized leather jacket from one of the tables below them. The waitress gave Neville a smile and he blew her a kiss as she withdrew. Vaughn sat down in the spot she vacated.

"That your girl, bro?" he lifted his chin in the direction of Seamus and Hannah.

"She belongs to me."

"You don't mind her out there hugged up with ol' boy?"

"Seamus isn't interested in Hannah. He only has eyes for Dean. And Hannah is quite aware of the consequences of any behavior of which I do not approve." He arched a brow.

"Yo, _word?_ But you don't dance?"

"I do dance from time to time, depending on the occasion, but I'm more of a people watcher. You could say I like to keep an eye on things when my friends are occupied. Constant vigilance." He gestured to where Iolanthe and the other Auror moved around the perimeter of the club, their eyes alert.

" _Daaamn!_ Y'all really gangsta! That what them rings are about? Your boy said he'd tell me, but then he'd have to kill me." He laughed, eyeing Draco's walking stick. Neville turned to Épiphanie's friend with a smirk.

"I doubt he'd actually kill you, but if he did reveal their purpose, I would certainly flay the skin from his back."

Vaughn gave him a startled look. "You serious?"

Neville smirked. "However, Épiphanie would not be happy if I did that, and I am sure that you know her temper can be quite… treacherous."

"I bet. So what happened to my girl? How she get cut up like that?"

"She and my friend there were attacked by some _twat_ and his cohorts who don't like blacks and gays."

"Damn, that's some ol' bullshit, bébé! Wish I could get a crack at that fool!"

"Not to worry." Neville looked at Vaughn now. "He's already dead."

Vaughn drew back as if struck and stared at Neville in awe. "You—" Vaughn began. Neville smirked and shook his head.

He stood, taking up Draco's walking stick and Vaughn watched in astonishment as he strolled casually through the crowd and tapped the long-haired blond on the shoulder, handing him the cane. He didn't speak a word as he turned to the exit, all of his companions following without a backwards glance.

"Gangsta!" Vaughn murmured.

* * *

"Mes Enfants!" The old ghost smiled as she drifted into the room.

"Ma Mère."

"All is well?" she asked.

"Oui, Ma Mère. We came for Carnival." Épiphanie settled in beside Draco on one sofa. Dean and Seamus took the opposite, and Hannah crawled into Neville's lap as he settled into a side chair.

"And perhaps a bit of debauchery, non?" She winked one translucent eye. "Vous aimez. (Do enjoy yourselves)" She drifted through the wall and into the street.

Épiphanie waved her wand, closing the shutters.

"Where kin I get me hands on tha' _music_ , Épiphanie?" Seamus asked. He was stretched out on top of Dean. "I'd certainly like to mix somethin' like tha'!"

"I might know somewhere you can get some of Katey Red's stuff and some other artists. That Big Freedia is new, so I don't know about her. You should definitely put that in rotation at y'all's club though. I think it would go hard with the dancehall fans."

"Mm hmm." Seamus was hardly listening as Dean was nipping along the line of his neck.

"You like that?" Dean whispered, gripping his ass. He bucked his hips against the Irishman's.

"Mmmm, yes." He murmured. Dean pinched his ass.

"What was that?"

"Aye, sir." Seamus hissed. He ground his hips against Dean's, his burgeoning erection captive in his pants.

Dean flipped him onto his back, pinning his hands above his head. Seamus bit his lip and stared up into his lover's dark face.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Dean whispered. His lover's wand flew away, and Neville deftly caught it with barely so much as a glance in their direction.

Dean continued his frotting and pointed his wand. " _Instigosempra!"_ he whispered breathlessly between kisses.

"Mmmm! Fuck!" Seamus went rigid and bucked hard beneath Dean. He groaned, closing his eyes as his prostate was tortured by the spell. Dean bit down on Seamus' lip.

"Look at me!" he demanded in a vicious whisper. "Look at me!" Seamus snapped his eyes open. " _Furari Spiritus!"_

Seamus barely had time to gasp before his breathing was cut off. His loins quivered and he struggled mightily beneath Dean's grasp, bucking against him as his eyes rolled back in his head.

"You'd _better_ not cum. Don't _fucking_ cum!" Dean licked his throat. " _Finite!_ " Seamus drew in a long rasping breath and moaned. Dean released Seamus' wrists and sat up, straddling Seamus' waist. He placed his hands on his hips and stared down at him. "Well?" he said after a few seconds.

Seamus pulled Dean's shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. He hungrily kissed and licked Dean's torso, pushing him back against the sofa cushions, and tugged at the button-fly of his jeans, releasing his hard cock.

"Daayum!" Épiphanie murmured when she saw Dean's long, dark member bobbing free of his pants. Draco's fingers curled in her hair and he pulled her head back.

"That treat is all for Seamus tonight, ma chère. I've something else in mind for you," he whispered in her ear, before licking along her earlobe. " _Obscuro!_ " The blindfold slid across her eyes just as she saw Dean's dick disappear between Seamus' pale lips.

" _Restringo!_ " Épiphanie's arms were pulled behind her and magically bound in a reverse prayer position. Draco held her against his chest and ripped her shirt and bra away with his bare hands. The sudden exposure to the slight coolness of the room pricked up her nipples. She could hear Dean and Seamus moaning softly a few feet away.

"Do you want it?" Draco whispered in her ear.

"P-please. Y-yes, please!" she breathed. He pinched her nipples hard, pulling on them. "Ah! Mmmmm!"

He slid a hand down her torso and into her panties. "Oh, my! Already wet, Ma Zirondelle! Did those Gryffindors really turn you on that much?" He pinched her clit and massaged it. She rocked against his hand and he slipped a finger inside her cunt.

"Mmmmmm!" she moaned. He slipped in two more fingers. She lifted her hips to meet him, but he drew his hand away and she whimpered.

"Open." Épiphanie opened her mouth and he shoved his long fingers inside, bitter and sticky with her juices. "Lick it off." He moved his hand in and out over her tongue.

"Oh, bloody _fucking Godric and Merlin!_ " Dean swore and fisted Seamus' hair as his cock slid down his lover's throat.

"Hmmm!" Épiphanie squirmed. Draco held her about the waist. She could feel his erection pressing against his trousers and her back. He slid his hand back over her pussy and began to tease it.

Another pair of hands was upon her, and she started.

"Shhh. Relax. Trust me." Draco whispered. The fingertips traced over the flesh of her torso and hooked the waistband of her skirt and underwear, pulling them away as Draco's fingers continued to stroke in and out of her pussy, his palm rubbing over her clit. "Spread your legs." The other pair of hands pushed her knees apart, squeezing her thighs as they slid closer and closer to her throbbing sex.

Another hand slid into her pussy along with Draco's, stretching her just a little.

"Mmph!" she grunted and squirmed.

"It's good to you, Dragonfly, isn't it? You can take it, love." He whispered. Fisting her hair, Draco pulled Épiphanie's head back and kissed her neck. He sank his teeth into her shoulder as a pair of lips closed around her clit.

"Oh, my!" she gasped.

"That's it, love. Enjoy it. _Instigosempra!_ "

Her clit buzzed as every nerve ending came to life and her pussy was licked up and down, the delicate tongue plunging inside along with the fingers.

"Oh, fucking _Merlin! Aye! Fuck!_ " she heard Seamus cry out across from them.

"Shit!" Dean groaned. "Oh, my _gods!_ "

Draco pinched and tugged on her nipples. Épiphanie moaned and writhed in her bonds as she was tongue fucked in an insistent rhythm, soft hair tickling the inside of her thighs.

"Mmmmmmmmmm!" the lips against her pussy vibrated with a soft moan and confirmed Épiphanie's thoughts. Hannah was eating her out.

Draco touched his wand and the blindfold slid away, and she looked down to see the witch's head between her legs, sliding her tongue in and out of her quivering, tortured pussy as Neville fucked her from behind. Over his shoulder, Dean had Seamus bent over the arm of the couch, his wrists bound in similar fashion to her own, and his dick buried in Seamus' ass as he fisted his dark hair, pulling his head back.

" _Instigosempra duo!"_ Draco hissed. The quivering in her pussy intensified. She cried out, her voice not unlike the wail of a banshee, as she lifted away from Draco's chest. He grabbed her shoulders and held her in place as Hannah buried her face between her legs, her own cries of pleasure muffled as Neville pounded into her.

Neville stared at Draco as he fucked Hannah into Épiphanie. He tightened his grip on the wand in his hand.

 _Crucio Vexo!_

"Ssssssss!" Draco hissed as his flesh stung. He grabbed Épiphanie's hair and pulled her head back hard, wrapping his free hand around her throat.

 _Instigosempra!_

"Sonofabitch! Fuck! Fuck! _Fuck!_ " He lifted his hips against Épiphanie's back, his cock trapped in his trousers as the quaking tortured his loins. He tightened his grip around her neck and she gasped for air, bucking against Hannah.

A small crowd gathered on the sidewalk across the street from the ruins of the cottage whose historical marker identified the crumbling edifice as the home of Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau.

"Oh my God! Do you hear that?" one man remarked.

"I've heard it was haunted. I wonder what caused all that wailing and moaning."

"Last year, people said they heard music coming from there."

"Well _that_ sounds like sex, to me!" said one woman.

"Aww, c'mon Jenna! Sex?"

"Haven't you ever heard of Baron Samedi? They say that Marie Laveau was his lover. Supposedly, he's utterly debauched! I bet he's having an orgy!" she said.

"Only you would think of something like that. No more voodoo tours for you! Let's go. I wanna go to Pat O's." Jenna's friend pulled her away towards Bourbon Street. The rest of the crowd soon dispersed as well.

* * *

Dean puffed on a Cohiba from the antique humidor that was kept at the house, slouching on the sofa, and idly stroking Seamus' shoulder as he lightly dozed with his head on his lap. Neville sleepily sprawled in a club chair, sipping a glass of scotch and Draco sat in the opposite chair watching the two witches curled into one another on the other sofa.

"You taste good," Hannah whispered. Épiphanie smiled self-consciously. "You never answered my question last time, so I guess you've never been with a woman." She lightly traced a finger down Épiphanie's arm.

"No." Her lips brushed Hannah's cheek as she spoke. Her arm was draped over Hannah's side, and she played with her blonde curls. Hannah slid her hand down Épiphanie's side and pulled her hips close.

"Most men don't realize that we can get off too. We don't have to have _equipment._ And we don't have to rely on our mouths either."

"I don't—" Épiphanie was perplexed.

"Can I show you?" Hannah asked. She kissed Épiphanie's forehead.

"I uh—" She wasn't sure, but she was still curious. "Okay?"

Hannah shifted. "Lie on your back."

Épiphanie shifted until she was on her back and Hannah was over her, straddling her hips. She gently pushed her legs apart and settled between them, pressing her pale hips against her dark pelvis. Épiphanie's clitoris perked up and her eyes widened. Hannah smiled down at her and leaned in to brush her lips over hers. She ground her pelvis into the other witch's, their clits kissing.

Épiphanie felt her breath catch in her throat and she let out a soft whimper, grabbing Hannah's hips and pulling her close. Hannah let out a sigh as they rocked their hips together, delighting in the sensation of one another.

"May I kiss you?" Hannah asked.

"Yes." Épiphanie breathed.

Draco stroked his cock as he watched the two witches kiss, their bodies undulating as they explored one another. He was incredibly aroused by the sight of the dark Slytherin and the pale Hufflepuff entwined with one another in the dim light, and gripped his cock tightly, biting his lip as he gazed at his beloved in the arms of his mentor's lover. He flicked his gaze over at Neville who wore a smile of satisfaction as he too watched. Though his eyes never left the two women, he felt Draco's gaze upon him, and raised his glass in appreciation.

"Look, love!" Dean tapped Seamus' arm and pointed with his cigar. Seamus lifted his head and looked over his shoulder.

"Janey Mack! That must be some wicked pussy. Maybe I _should_ try that." Seamus snuggled back down, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and quickly drifted back to sleep.

Dean looked over at Draco, who raised a brow at Neville.

* * *

Épiphanie burrowed into the warm body wrapped around her under the blankets of her ancestor's bed, and yawned softly. She wondered for a moment when she'd ended up in bed. The last thing she remembered was discovering the heady sensation of sharing herself with another woman for the first time. She sighed and attempted to call back the memory of the night before; the atmosphere of the sitting room, thick with the scent of sex; the mingling of moans, sighs, and cries of ecstasy; the taste of herself on the lips of another; several glasses of firewhiskey; Draco and Dean whispering.

She hummed softly to herself, feeling the insistent nudging of a growing erection against her thigh.

"Somebody's an eager beaver," she murmured, sleepily. The bed suddenly shifted violently.

"Wha—?" The startled voice did not belong to Draco, and Épiphanie's eyes snapped open to find Seamus scrambling away from her, clutching the sheet to his chest. She could see the faint bruises of his beating still marring his pale skin. "Bloody hell!"

"What the—Draco!" Épiphanie shrieked, scrambling in the other direction, and staring at Seamus in complete shock.

"Dean!" Seamus bellowed.

"Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Did we?" Épiphanie exclaimed, breathlessly. "No! No! We couldn't have! You don't—"

"Dean Cedric Thomas!"

"Draco Lucien Malfoy!"

The door opened, but neither of their partners entered.

"Really, my darlings! Some of us were _trying_ to sleep. What is all this caterwauling about?" Neville shuffled into the room, scratching his bare chest. He caught sight of the scandalized pair and smiled roguishly. "Well, well, well! It appears the luck of the Irish has finally struck! Did our darling Seamus finally lose his hetero-virginity!"

"I—we—?" Épiphanie stared at him incredulously.

"We— _her—_ " Seamus stammered.

Finally, Draco and Dean staggered into the room, both looking worse for the wear.

"Oh, my gods, why are you both shrieking like banshees?" Draco moaned, clutching a hand to his forehead.

"Because instead of my _boyfriend_ , I just woke up naked and curled up with the heretofore _Kinsey-six gay_ partner of one of my best friends!" Épiphanie snarled. "Where are my clothes? _Where_ are my clothes!"

"You weren't so worried about clothes last night, love," said Neville with a smirk. He leaned on the doorframe.

"Not helping, Longbottom!" Seamus growled. Neville threw up his hands and withdrew from the room. "How did this happen?" he demanded.

"I dunno, babe. There was a bottle—or maybe two or three—of some _really_ good firewhiskey, and I think there was some discussion of the game _questions and commands…_ " Dean swiped a lazy hand over his face. "Fuck, this _hangover!_ "

"Are these two really serious right now? I mean, _really!_ " Épiphanie finally summoned a shirt and pulled it on. "So did Seamus and I fuck last night or not?"

"You were _soo_ beautiful!" Dean yawned.

"Ye _can't_ be serious, love!" Seamus threw himself back against the pillows.

"Merlin, both of you stop whinging!" Draco fussed. "Fuck, my _head!_ "

"Seamus, I don't know about you, but I think we _owe_ our beautiful beloveds for placing us in this predicament, don't you?" Épiphanie looked at him with an arched brow. He gave her a wink and summoned his wand.

" _Resipisco!_ " they said, together.

"Oh!" Dean exclaimed, staggering backwards and grabbing his head.

"Fuck!" Draco swore. "You couldn't _warn_ me!"

"Now that you're both sober, you can go down to the Three Brothers and get us some brunch!" Épiphanie declared. She sat down on the bed with a bounce, crossing her arms.

"C'mon, macushla. Let's go back to sleep!" Seamus drew back the covers and glared at Dean. Épiphanie slid back into bed beside him.

"Can't believe the _nerve_ of those two!" she muttered, snatching the blanket and punching her pillow. Draco and Dean stared at her. "What the hell y'all lookin' at? _Bye!_ " She buried her head under a pillow.

"I'm _really_ sorry Shae," she mumbled into the fluffy down.

"Épiphanie?" Seamus said softly, once they were alone again.

"Yeah?" She kept her face hidden.

"Ye don't have ta be sorry, love. I'm glad it was you," he said. Épiphanie lifted the pillow and looked at him.

"Really?"

"Absolutely." He kissed her lightly.


	13. Light Their Way When Darkness Surrounds

"Harry? Why are you standing on my doorstep at this ungodly hour?" Épiphanie asked as Hatshepsut swooped past them and into the cottage. She inhaled sharply. "Maman? Papa? Is something wrong?" Her eyes expressed alarm.

"Oh, no, Épiphanie! Merlin! I would—no. Everything is fine, I'm here as part of your security detail." He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Security detail, for what? Come on in and have some breakfast. Coffee? Tea?" she shuffled into the kitchen and filled a kettle with water.

"Tea would be nice, thank you." Harry followed her, and removed his cloak, folding it neatly over the back of a chair before taking a seat at the table.

Épiphanie lit the stove and busied herself making a breakfast of southern biscuits, sausage, eggs and grits, into which she sprinkled cheddar cheese. Harry smiled to himself, appreciating that she used muggle means to prepare the meal. Épiphanie opened a cabinet and three plates sailed out and onto the table along with juice glasses, cups and saucers. Harry noticed this and grimaced with embarrassment.

"Oh, I didn't realize that—I'll just go and—" He made to stand.

"Nonsense, Potter," came a voice still laden with sleepiness. "You'll do no such thing." Draco raked his fingers through his tousled tresses and tied his dressing gown over his bare chest as he entered the kitchen. He crossed to the stove where Épiphanie was scraping the grits into a serving dish, fisting her hair and pulling her head back to plant a kiss on her throat. "Bon matin, ma chère."

"Morning, love." She nudged him with her hip and he moved out of her way, flicking his wand and sending treats to Hatshepsut and Wei-Wei who were roosting on built-in perches near the window. The eagle owls snapped up the treats happily as Épiphanie levitated the serving dishes to the table.

Draco set a can with a bright yellow label on the table and sat down. Harry looked at it curiously. He reached out to fill his plate, but noticed that Draco had not moved, and was intently watching Épiphanie. She made the sign of the cross, lowering her head to pray. He drew his hand back and waited quietly for her to finish.

"Amen," she whispered, crossing herself again. "Dig in, fellas!"

They filled their plates with food and Épiphanie poured café au lait for herself and Draco. Harry took his tea and watched as Draco poured a small puddle of dark liquid from the can onto the edge of his plate and dipped his scone into it before taking a bite. He noticed Harry watching him.

"Something the matter, Potter?"

"No, I was just wondering exactly what that is you're dipping your scone into." It rather reminded Harry of motor oil.

Épiphanie chuckled. "I've gotten Draco hooked on our southern breakfast, Harry. Back home, we call these biscuits. They're not as rich as your English scones, and a bit lighter and flakier. This porridge is grits with cheese. It's made with cornmeal and hominy. In America, we typically sprinkle it with salt and sometimes pepper. Down in Louisiana, some of us also sprinkle Tabasco on it." A small phial zoomed into her hand. It was filled with a reddish potion. She uncapped it and sprinkled it over her food, passing it to Draco, who sprinkled it over his eggs. "And _that_ ," she pointed to the can, "is cane syrup. It's made from boiling the juice of sugar cane. It's sweeter than molasses and it's been a staple in Louisiana since slaves were first imported to the state to harvest sugar cane. Where I come from, cane syrup is to southern biscuits what clotted cream is to your scones. How did you manage to get out of New Orleans _twice_ without trying any of this?"

Harry took a tentative taste of the exotic foods and was pleasantly surprised. He ate with earnest and helped himself to seconds of the grits and biscuits. He reached for the Tabasco. Draco raised a brow, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth. Épiphanie reached out and grabbed his wrist before he could sprinkle the pepper sauce over his food.

"You know you wrong!" she said to Draco, cutting her eyes at him. "Harry, Tabasco is a hot pepper sauce. If you're unaccustomed to spicy food, I wouldn't suggest you do that. Give it a taste first." She passed him a spoon.

Harry took a taste. His eyes bulged and he coughed. Draco snorted and suppressed a grin as Harry snatched up his juice.

"Ignore him, Harry. I remember a certain Slytherin having a similar reaction the first time he tasted Tabasco. The component produced by the peppers, capsaicin, which makes it hot, is what is used in the manufacture of pepper spray."

"Oh. Oh, _wow!_ "

"What's pepper spray?" Draco asked.

"Muggle equivalent of a conjunctivitis curse, in potion form," said Harry, dipping a small piece of his biscuit into the syrup. His eyes widened in delighted surprise. "Mmm!"

"Okay, so why exactly do I need a security detail?" Épiphanie asked.

"Minister's orders. You're not to go out in public without an escort. Apparently, he had a rather heated exchange with the muggle Prime Minister—"

"Wait—Papa knows Tony Blair? Does the Prime Minister know about the magical world?"

"Seems so. During the war, Kingsley was undercover as part of his security detail. He worked as his personal assistant, until my final escape from Privet Drive. But as I understand it, the sitting Prime Minister is always informed of our existence and meets regularly with the Minister of Magic on matters relevant to the effect of our world on the muggle world and vice versa. He is, of course, sworn to secrecy. Anyway, after the attack on you and Seamus, they met and it seems that there were words exchanged because the Prime Minister felt that you should be held responsible for the death of the one attacker, Frederick Massey."

"Are you serious?"

"Don't worry about it, Épiphanie. The Aurors took care of everything. Besides, it all comes down to self-defense. It's also why Neville and Draco are not being held responsible for the use of magic in the presence of muggles either."

"I thought Dean was there too? What about him?" she asked.

"Dean preferred to let his fists do the talking," said Draco with a wry grin. "The bastard he trounced should be quite fortunate he did, or he might be dead as well, rather than simply recovering from a fractured skull." Draco sipped his coffee.

"I'm still not quite happy with this arrangement. It's bad enough you won't let me train for another two weeks. Now, I have a shadow?"

"You are the minister's daughter. It's no different than the families of muggle officials who are assigned security escorts." Harry poured another cup of tea. "Your mother has had a bodyguard since she arrived in Britain."

"Why you haven't had a security detail all along, is completely beyond me," said Draco.

"Well, she was at school when she first arrived, and everyone still seems to consider Hogwarts to be the safest place to be."

"I'm sure I can name a number of alumni who would beg to differ." Draco rolled his eyes, neatly placing his silverware on his plate. Harry chuckled.

"I don't see what's so funny, or what the fuss is," said Épiphanie. "I'm more than capable of handling myself," she insisted.

"Yes, my beloved. We all know this, but think of your parents. I am certain that this is a matter of setting their minds at ease. Your mother was quite distraught over your injury. Imagine if the attack had been magical in nature."

"Draco's right. That is a very real threat, Épiphanie. There are still dark wizards out there who wish to wreak havoc on the tenuous peace we are enjoying right now. Clearly, you recognize this. A vulnerable Minister's Daughter is an inviting target," Harry pointed out.

"Psshht! I am hardly vulnerable." She waved a dismissive hand.

"And if they were to find that out, you will be even more of a target. I promise, I'll try to be as unobtrusive as possible, Épiphanie. The reason I was assigned to be your personal escort is because we're already friends, and no one would pay much attention to us together. There are also undercover Aurors who will be in your general vicinity at all times. When I'm unavailable, Ron will be your escort. Our responsibility is to secure your home and escort you by side-along apparition or, when necessary, portkey. The floo network is not secure enough at this time."

Épiphanie pouted. Draco took her hand and kissed it. "Ma Zirondelle, you have the most powerful wizard in the world—perhaps next to you, of course—at your side. I'm loathed to admit, but still grateful that he's saved my life on more than one occasion. Do you _honestly_ think I would simply stand aside and allow _any_ Junior Auror to provide your protection? Besides, with the money that the Dragons have invested in you as a player, he's got a vested interest in protecting his asset." He gave her a wink. She rolled her eyes.

"Fine! Fine! I give! So what exactly am I supposed to do with myself all day? Knit?" She waved her hand and the table cleared itself, the dishes washing themselves in the sink. She rested her chin grumpily on her hands.

"Well, before I was handed this assignment, I'd planned to go to Hogwarts today. Firebolt releases the Potter Elite line of brooms to the public today, and The Dragons ownership has decided to gift all of the house Quidditch teams brooms."

"We're also replacing those _dreadful_ school brooms with a set of Firebolt Basics," said Draco.

"Hm! Madame Hooch should be over the moon!" Épiphanie declared.

"I'd be happy to have you join me. The younger kids would probably love the opportunity to meet the Minister of Magic's daughter—and a pro Quidditch player."

"Somehow, I still think that's second fiddle to meeting The-Boy-Who-Lived," she grinned. "But I'll go. It certainly beats sitting around twiddling my thumbs."

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you _not_ to let her fly, Potter," she heard Draco say as she left the room.

"Of course, Malfoy."

"Yeah, good luck with that, fellas!" she called out before closing the bedroom door behind her.

Harry and Épiphanie landed just outside the main gates of Hogwarts and made their way up the winding path to the castle where they were greeted by Neville as he strolled from the greenhouses to the Entrance Hall. He shook hands with Harry and gave Épiphanie a kiss at the corner of her lips, which Harry thought lingered just a bit too long. The three alumni entered the Great Hall where breakfast was underway. An excited murmur spread across the massive hall as heads turned to stare at The Minister's Daughter and the savior of the wizarding world as they followed their young Herbology professor to the head table.

"I'm still not used to the whispering and pointing," Épiphanie said, accepting a cup of tea and stirring sugar into it.

"Well, you and Hermione are the most famous witches in the country, and Ginny is becoming a close second with her Quidditch reputation," said Harry.

"Are you sure it's just her Quidditch fame and not the fact that she's dating the most famous and powerful wizard in the world—not to mention the most eligible bachelor? When are you going to ask her to marry you anyway?" she asked.

"I'm sure the Daily Prophet will announce it, before I'm fully off my knee," he retorted. She laughed.

They chatted with the professors until the representatives from Firebolt arrived, and Headmistress McGonagall announced that all students were to head to the pitch for the assembly. The executives at Firebolt thanked Harry profusely for his endorsement of their product and went on to emphasize how pleased they were to be the official Quidditch outfitters for Hogwarts, thanks to his generous donation. When it was Harry's turn to speak, he emphasized that the donation was made not only by himself, but also Draco Malfoy, on behalf of the Wiltshire Dragons.

"As alumni, Mr. Malfoy and I simply wanted to acknowledge the impact that Hogwarts has had on the wizards we are today. We are grateful for the opportunity to have not only learned so much, but to have had this as a place to hone our skills and develop our love for the game of Quidditch. Fly fast!"

Épiphanie and Harry handed out brooms to the members of each team and stood for a portrait with all of the house teams. Naturally, members of Slytherin and Gryffindor teams begged for individual team pictures and the two alums spent several minutes signing autographs for students before Professor McGonagall announced that it was time for classes to begin.

"Before you go, Épiphanie, I have a parcel for Draco. I was going to send it by owl, but your arrival is most fortuitous," said Neville.

"I'll meet you at the Entrance Hall," said Harry. He continued on with Professor McGonagall and the representatives from Firebolt.

Épiphanie followed Neville to his quarters where he handed her a long leather cylinder with a strap that ran from the cap to the bottom. It looked to her like an archer's quiver. She looked at the tube curiously.

"A quiver? I wasn't aware you guys were into archery," she said. Neville grinned.

"No, it just happened to be the best container for the contents."

"I see," she replied, still studying it. She pulled at the container's cap.

"Now, now, love. It can only be opened by the person to whom it is intended." Neville lightly admonished her with a wave of his finger. They turned to the door, and Épiphanie had pulled it open just an inch or two when Neville pushed it closed again, pinning her bodily against it. He gave her collar a tug that put just enough pressure on her throat to belabor her breathing.

"I have been meaning to thank you for obliging my Hannah during our holiday. She happily submits to me, but I am aware of her predilection towards…varied experiences, and I do my best to indulge her when I can. Draco was kind enough to accommodate my request." His voice was husky and soft as he spoke, and he brushed his lips over the nape of her neck. "I do hope you enjoyed it as much as you appeared to at the time."

"I—" she swallowed. The pressure at her neck and the feel of his body pressing her against the door sent a delicious shiver up her spine. She knew he felt it, despite her efforts to remain still. "Yes," she whispered. They stood there for a few seconds that, to her, felt like an eternity. "Harry's probably waiting for me."

"Of course." He moved away, and Épiphanie felt oddly bereft of his touch. He escorted her back to the Entrance Hall without another word, delivering her with a bow and shaking Harry's hand before departing.

"What's that?" Harry asked as they strolled towards the gates.

"Don't know. Something for Draco." She shrugged, slinging the strap across her body.

"Neville didn't tell you?"

"Nope, and he's charmed it so only Draco can open it."

"Really?" Harry raised a brow. "That's odd. I never would have figured those two to share any secrets."

"Well, I think they've come to share quite a bit since Neville helped Draco to deal with his grief and that whole issue with the Draught of Peace. Did Neville tell you that Draco returned his remembrall?"

"His remembrall? I—wow!"

"What?"

"Well, Draco stole Neville's remembrall our first year."

"I know. Neville dropped it when he fell from his broom during your first flying lesson, right?"

"Yes, and Draco and I had something of a row over it. He flew off and intended to throw it away, but I caught it. McGonagall saw me, and that's how I ended up on the Quidditch team. I had the remembrall, but somehow I lost it later that day. I never knew that he'd had it all this time!"

"Apparently, neither did Draco. He'd hidden it in his school trunk and forgot about it. Seamus and Dean were stunned when he handed it over."

"Seamus and Dean?"

"Yeah, they came by Antares Hall after we all left their club that night."

"Hm." Harry looked thoughtful, then shrugged as they passed through the gates and into Hogsmeade once more. "Fancy a bite at the Leaky Cauldron?"

Épiphanie shrugged. "He told you to keep me busy didn't he?"

"Of course!" Harry smiled and offered his arm. She took it and they disapparated. They landed behind the pub and he escorted her inside. Harry caught Hannah's eye and she hurried to show them to a private dining room before too many patrons registered their presence.

"So, you've seen Neville then?" Hannah inquired as Épiphanie unburdened herself of the quiver.

"Yeah. We just left Hogwarts," Harry replied. He hadn't realized that Hannah wasn't actually speaking to or looking at him. Épiphanie nodded and felt her cheeks flush.

"Do you know what's in here?" she asked. Hannah shrugged, but the pink in her cheeks said that she had an idea.

"The special today is shepherd's pie," she gave them a smile and withdrew.

"D'you mind if I ask you a question?" Harry asked, pulling Épiphanie's chair out for her.

"You just did," she smiled. "I'm teasing. Go ahead."

"When we were in New Orleans, there was this reddish, orange dust across the doorstep at your house. I thought I saw it on the ground outside La Maison Blanche, and I noticed a line of the same orange dust across the doorstep of your cottage and also around your hearth. What is that?"

"Red brick dust," she replied, pouring a glass of ice water from the pitcher in the center of the table.

"Brick dust?"

"It's a traditional practice for warding off evil, keeping away bad energy and negativity, and it keeps your enemies from entering your home."

"Does it really work?" Harry gave her a skeptical look.

"It works in the Muggle world just fine. I don't know if it will keep anyone from apparating into my home, but since I seem not to have encountered any enemies in my house, I should suppose that it does." She smiled serenely.

"Hmm." Harry's eyes took on a thoughtful vacancy.

"Don't Harry."

"What?" He shook his head and looked at her.

"You're not that great at occlumency are you? You let your guard slip so easily, especially when you begin to think about your parents," she said. "Don't dwell on what I just told you. We can't go back and change things, so it doesn't do well to focus on what could have been. Those are just dreams. It just stops us from living the life for which we are destined."

Now, Harry stared at her agog. "What's the matter?" She looked at him inquisitively.

"It's just—what you said—someone once told me something very similar."

"He must have been a very wise person." She gave him a knowing smile.

"Yeah." He smiled at the memory. "He was."

After a hearty lunch, the pair left the pub and headed in the direction of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, doing their best to avoid the onslaught of admirers and Wiltshire fans. Harry gripped his wand tightly and took Épiphanie's hand to avoid becoming separated. She smiled and demurred when asked for autographs, making the excuse that they had an appointment to make. As they passed Gringotts Bank, Épiphanie had a sudden sensation of nervousness and fear. It wasn't her emotion, however. She turned her head in the direction of the aura that seemed to be reaching out to her. A little girl stood near the entrance to Twilfit & Tattings hugging the wall. She appeared nervous and when her gaze met Épiphanie's her dark eyes grew large and she shrank into the shadows of the street beyond.

 _Please don't let them see me! Please don't let them see me! I don't want to go back! Please don't let them find me!_

A gaggle of witches waving the latest issue of Witch Weekly crowded them all of a sudden, and Épiphanie lost sight of the girl as Harry herded her up the street and into their friend's shop. She was immediately overwhelmed by the flurry of activity that was Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. All around the brightly colored showroom, there was something happening. Tiny explosions were going off in a blaze of color. Items were floating through the air. And small children were dragging weary parents to and fro, begging for everything in sight. At the center of it all, George Weasley managed everything with flair and pure joy. He spotted Harry and Épiphanie and extricated himself from the throng of children for whom he was demonstrating his latest invention, expertly weaving around the running children and animated products.

"Harry! Épiphanie! So glad you could stop by. I have something incredible to show you that I think you'll love! Come along! Come along!" They followed him to the back of the shop and into a workroom that held two benches. On the left, there was an assortment of works in progress beneath rows of cubbies that organized tools and prototypes. Épiphanie was about to perch on the stool at the opposite worktable when Harry caught her arm, shaking his head. She looked at the identical workbench which held a single unfinished project. It looked like it might have been intended to be a toy hippogriff that would be enchanted in some way. The figure of the creature stood in suspended animation. At its side was a parchment with a rendering of the toy and a dried quill lying nearby. She assumed that this was the workbench of George's departed twin, Fred.

"Harry, I've just finished looking over the contract for the fireworks displays at Dragon Grove Arena. I think the terms are perfectly agreeable, and as soon as I can get a new assistant in here, I'd like to come down and take a closer look at the facility, so we can determine the best setup."

"I'll let Draco know to look for your owl."

"Now, milady, don't think I've left you out!" he grinned devilishly and kissed her hand before turning to one of the myriad cubbies over his workbench. "My dear sister has one of these, and it's a top seller. I think yours will be a runaway favorite! He opened the door of the cubby and a tiny figure zoomed into the air. When it reached the ceiling, suddenly it broke in two and began to dive, before coming back together just before it could hit the floor; then it whizzed back into the air, circling around them.

"What? Hey, that's me!" Épiphanie exclaimed in amazement. George flicked his wand, and the tiny figure landed on the table. She looked closely at the action figure, a remarkable likeness of herself, dressed in a Wiltshire Dragons Quidditch kit and leaning casually on a tiny model broom.

"Absolutely! She also comes with a Hogwarts quidditch kit, and she can perform all of your most fantastic maneuvers, including the Shacklebolt Special—the duchess dive!"

"I'm not a duchess, George."

"Well, you should be. Anyway, I've been looking into charming her to fly with Ginny's action figure. I'd like to do a full line of Hogwarts Quidditch Heroes, they could play by house or even mixed sides if you want—there will even a figure of your own beloved Draco, and if we're lucky, old McGonagall herself—but the Boy Who Lived won't sign on the dotted line. Without him, the interest just won't be the same."

"Well, I think it's a neat idea, George. I'm flattered. Does my contract allow for this type of product endorsement, Harry?"

"I don't think it would be a problem. We don't own rights to your likeness, but without looking at it, I couldn't say for sure."

"Wait a minute, George." Épiphanie looked at the figure, which waved up at her and mounted her broom. "Did you say she comes with a change of kit?" He smiled impishly. "And what exactly does she wear underneath?"

"Well, this one is just a prototype." He flicked his wand and the tiny doppelganger soared into the air when she reached for it.

"George Weasley!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest. Harry looked warily around the room for signs that her magic was expanding. With the number of explosive elements that he knew George worked with, he certainly didn't want the witch to become irate. Épiphanie saw the nervous expression on his face. "Oh, don't worry, Harry. I'm not going to hex George or destroy anything in his store." George gave him a look of triumph. "I'm just going to tell his _mother!_ " She gave him a look that reminded Harry of Hermione.

"I'm just teasing you, milady. She has a nondescript body underneath, same as Ginny." He smiled and flicked his wand to direct the figure back into the cubby.

"These are really awesome, George. I love your shop. Have you considered expanding?" Épiphanie asked.

"Well, Fred—um—Fred and I were looking into buying out Zonko's in Hogsmeade. Perhaps by the end of the year, we may have an agreement that works for both parties. It's all I can do to keep up with this location. He glanced briefly at the abandoned desk across from his and a look of sadness flitted across his face." Épiphanie took his hand and smiled.

"I think you could do well with an American location—or maybe overseas mail order. Maybe if things work out with Hogsmeade, an international expansion would be an idea."

"Hey, George, I—oh, I didn't realize you were—Harry, hi!"

Épiphanie turned to see a pretty witch with dark skin and friendly eyes. She had a slender athletic build and wore a magenta robe that identified her as an employee of the shop. Harry gave her a warm hug.

"Angelina! Great to see you! Have you met Épiphanie Glapion-Shacklebolt?"

"Hello." Épiphanie extended her hand.

"Hiya. I'm so excited to meet you! I'm Angelina Johnson!" She took Épiphanie's hand in a firm grip as she pumped it up and down.

"Angelina was captain of the Gryffindor team."

"Chaser, right?" Épiphanie guessed.

"Yeah. You too, I hear—first witch to play for Slytherin. That's quite an accomplishment!"

"Not quite enough to take the cup from Gryffindor, but going up against the Weasleys and Harry Potter in the Cup, one is lucky to even score!" Épiphanie chuckled.

"Well, I didn't mean to interrupt. It was nothing critical, George." She withdrew from the room before he could speak, but Épiphanie didn't miss the way his face had lit up when she entered the room.

"Well, I suppose we should get going. We'll get together on that contract and let you know what Épiphanie's provisions are regarding the product endorsements," said Harry. He clapped George on the back. George walked them back through the shop to the door, and gave Épiphanie a hug.

"George, she's the one," she whispered.

"I—what?" he gave her a bemused look.

"Quit flirting with me and take the plunge with Angelina. She's waiting for you." Épiphanie smiled. George looked over to where Angelina was wrapping an order for a customer. She met his eyes and smiled. "See? It's okay to open your heart. Fred wants you to be happy. Trust me." She tapped her forehead.

When they stepped out into the street once again, Épiphanie's thoughts returned to the girl she'd seen standing on the street. She moved with purpose, scanning the crowds, certain that the child was still somewhere near.

"Épiphanie! What's the hurry?" Harry quickened his pace to keep up with her, his wand out as he tried to figure out what she was so interested in. She stopped outside of Gringotts Bank.

"Harry what's down there?" she asked, pointing to the darkened street that branched off between Twilfit & Tattings, and The Starry Prophesier.

"Knockturn Alley. Not a place you want to visit, or be seen visiting, Épiphanie," Harry warned. He took her arm to lead her away, when she stepped away from him, directly toward the shadowy lane.

"I know you're there. It's okay. I won't hurt you." She held out her hand.

"Épiphanie, what—" Harry stared in wonder as a little girl slowly emerged from the shadows.

Despite looking a bit disheveled, she was well-dressed, in dark blue lace-and-velvet-trimmed robes that looked rather expensive. Her dark brown curls framed a pale face with large, frightened eyes that nervously roamed the area. She shuffled forward a few steps and looked over her shoulder. Harry peered down Knockturn Alley wondering what, or who she might have been looking for. His senses were on alert and he stood just behind Épiphanie as she crouched at the girl's level.

"Hello. What's your name?" she asked.

"Grace," the girl whispered.

"That's a pretty name. My name is Épiphanie. You've been standing out here a long time, Grace. Where are your parents? Do they work around here?"

"My daddy is in Azkaban. So is my brother," the girl said softly. She looked up at Harry over Épiphanie's shoulder.

"Oh." Épiphanie was taken aback by this revelation, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable. "Well, what about your mommy? Where is she?"

"I don't know!" she whispered. Tears welled up in the girl's eyes.

 _I don't want to go back! Please don't make me go back there!_

"Go back where?" Épiphanie asked, shrugging off Harry's insistent tapping on her shoulder. She wondered what had frightened the girl so. Grace pointed over her shoulder into Knockturn Alley and Épiphanie noticed an angry bruise on the girl's wrist that looked as if someone had grabbed her harshly. "Is your mommy back there?"

The girl shook her head vigorously. _Please don't make me go back there!_

 _Are you afraid, Grace?_

Grace nodded. She looked up at Harry again. Épiphanie looked over her shoulder, to see him wince and instinctively raise his hand to his scar. He drew back before touching his head, but looked around furtively, his eyes alert and face tense.

 _Are you afraid of me?_

 _A little._

 _What about my friend?_

 _He's Harry Potter._

 _Yes, he is._

 _He doesn't want you to talk to me. He thinks it's dangerous._

 _You know what he's thinking? Can you see in his mind?_

Épiphanie stared curiously at this girl now. She looked up at Harry and back at the girl.

 _It's hard though, not like the others. He doesn't like people seeing his thoughts. He tries to hide them. He wants to take you away from here. They're coming! Please don't make me go with them!_

"Épiphanie—"

"Harry! She's in danger." Épiphanie stood now, her voice was low as she spoke. "Someone is looking for her, and it's not her family. We need to get her out of here, now!"

"We can't—"

"Grace!" a voice called out from the darkness of Knockturn Alley. "Where is that damned brat!" Grace grabbed Épiphanie's leg, and looked up at her with a terrified expression on her face.

" _Now_ , Harry!" Épiphanie hissed.

"Shit!" Harry grabbed Épiphanie's hand and Épiphanie reached down and scooped up the girl just as he turned, all three of them disappearing before whoever was stalking the frightened child could appear.

"Merlin's eye, Épiphanie! Did we just kidnap a child?" Harry was pacing once they landed in the parlor of Épiphanie's cottage.

"No, I think we just saved this child."

The girl clung to her neck for dear life, and Épiphanie sat down on the sofa, holding her on her lap. She gently pried Grace's fingers from her neck so that she could remove the leather quiver she'd earlier slung over her shoulder. After a bit of wriggling, the little girl latched onto her again.

"What makes you so sure?" Harry demanded.

"Because I used to run off a lot when I was a kid, and my mother never called me a 'brat' when she was looking for me—not even if she'd spent hours frantically searching the French Quarter! Also, whoever was looking for her, was clearly a male. _And,_ if that's not enough, just look at the way she's clinging to me!"

Harry opened his mouth to argue, when he had a memory of his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon using that very term to describe him, among many other depreciatory adjectives.

"Still, we don't know where she belongs. We don't even know her last name!"

"Well, that's easy enough. Grace, honey? Can you tell me your last name?"

"What's going on here?" Draco appeared in the doorway and set his broom beside the door.

Grace gave a gasp and clung even tighter to Épiphanie, burying her face. Épiphanie looked from the child to him and up to Harry. Draco stared for a minute and took a step into the room, staring intensely at the little girl.

"Grace?" he said, moving closer and staring curiously. "Gracie?" The girl, peeked out from behind her arm, and hid her face again. "What is she doing with _you_?" he demanded.

"You _know_ this girl?" Épiphanie asked, shocked.

"I ought to—I slept four feet from that crescent-shaped birthmark every night for almost seven years." He pointed to the mark just behind her earlobe.

"What?" Harry stared at Draco.

"Her brother has the same birthmark behind his ear. That's Gregory's sister—Grace Goyle."

"Goyle? Is that what you said?" Harry stared at Draco in shock.

"Is that your name, honey? Grace Goyle?" Épiphanie asked her. Grace nodded, still hiding her face. "Look at me, sweetheart?" The girl slowly looked up into her eyes. Épiphanie could feel the girl trembling with fear. "Do you know my friend?"

"Th-that's Mr. Malfoy," she whispered. "He's a Death Eater like Father."

Harry and Épiphanie looked from her to Draco.

"Gracie?" Draco crouched down to their level. She shrank away. "It's me, Draco. Gregory and I were mates. Do you remember?" She nervously looked at him. He smiled, pulling his hair away from his face. She looked at him for a long time.

"Y-you made my dollies dance," she said softly.

"That's right!" He continued to smile at her. "You don't have to be afraid, love. Nobody here will hurt you."

Grace's stomach growled loudly. She looked down.

"Are you hungry?" Épiphanie asked. Grace hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "How about some soup?"

"Okay."

Épiphanie took her to the kitchen and emptied a can of soup into a bowl, warming it with her wand. She set a glass of milk on the table next to the bowl.

"I'm going to go and talk to Harry and Draco in the next room, okay? If you need anything, just call." Grace nodded. She patted the girl's hair and went into the parlor.

Harry was still pacing. Draco stood staring into the fireplace, one hand on the mantelpiece. They looked at her when she entered.

"Épiphanie, what's going on? How did Gracie end up with you and Harry? I thought you were going to Hogwarts." Draco's voice was urgent.

"We did go to Hogwarts. Then we decided to go to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch before stopping by to see George at the joke shop. I spotted her huddling against the wall outside Twilfit & Tattings. She looked so scared, and I could hear her calling out to me. You guys, she's a legilimens!"

"What!" Harry exclaimed. Épiphanie put her finger to her lips.

"Shhh!" she admonished, looking towards the kitchen. "You knew, Harry. I saw you wince. She told me that you were trying to block her out."

"But how did she end up _here?_ " Draco asked again.

"She's afraid of someone. Terrified. She insisted that she didn't want to go back to wherever it was in Knockturn Alley that she had run from. I heard someone angrily calling for her just as we apparated. It certainly wasn't her mother."

"But Gregory and his father are in Azkaban! That's true isn't it, Potter?"

"Yes."

"Well, then where is her mother? She said she didn't know where her mother was," said Épiphanie.

"It doesn't make sense. Mrs. Goyle doted on Grace. She was barely three when the war began, and Mrs. Goyle wasn't a Death Eater. She was frightened for Gracie's safety. She would never have abandoned the girl willingly!"

"What should we do?" Épiphanie asked.

"We'll have to take her to the Ministry. Someone in Magical Law Enforcement will know what to do," said Harry.

"Harry, are you sure that's a good idea? How does Magical Law Enforcement handle lost children? What about children of Death Eaters?"

"I don't exactly know. We can't keep her here if someone is looking for her. Plenty of people may have seen her with us. Kingsley will be furious!"

"Ugh! Stop worrying about what my dad will say! I'm _grown!_ My parents don't live here."

"He's my boss, Épiphanie! In case you have forgotten, he's the Minister of Magic, which means everything you do—"

"—Is under scrutiny. I get it. Fine, _what_ are we going to do? I'm not letting her out of my sight until I'm certain she's going to be safe."

Harry conjured three patronuses and sent them off with a message. Just then, Grace appeared, standing nervously between the kitchen and the parlor. The wizards and witch turned to her.

"All finished?" Épiphanie asked. She nodded. "Good." Épiphanie held out her hand, and the girl ran to her. She picked her up and settled onto the sofa with the girl in her lap. Draco sat down beside them and Grace drew away again, though somewhat less reluctantly. She stared at him timidly.

"Gracie. Was your mother in Knockturn Alley with you?" He spoke softly. Grace shook her head. "Did she bring you to Diagon Alley?"

"No." Her voice was small.

Suddenly, there was a series of pops and Hermione, Ron and Kingsley appeared. Grace jumped and wrapped her arms around Épiphanie again, hiding her face with a whimper.

"Épiphanie? Who is this child?" Kingsley asked.

"Grace Goyle, Minister." Draco stood. "I was—erm, friends with her brother, Gregory."

"Goyle has siblings?" Ron asked incredulously. "How did she end up with _you?_ "

Harry and Épiphanie recounted the events that led them to rescue Grace from Knockturn Alley. Hermione took copious notes as they spoke while Kingsley looked grim. He pointed his wand at the girl. Épiphanie's eyes grew wide, and she pulled the girl close.

"Papa!" she exclaimed quietly.

" _Revelio!"_ Grace was shrouded in the blue light from his wand, and it faded away. Épiphanie glared at her father.

"She's just a child!"

"Constant vigilance, daughter." His face was impassive. "I'd like to speak with you, Harry and Hermione in private if I may."

"Grace, do you mind sitting here while I talk to my father?" Épiphanie asked the child. Grace's eyes grew wide with fear. "Here," Épiphanie summoned a rag doll and offered it to her. "This is Brigitte. She's my best friend, and I'll bet if you're nice to her, she'll be your friend too. Okay?"

"Okay," she replied softly, and hugged the doll close.

Épiphanie led the others into her bedroom and closed the door.

"Minister, I'm not sure that an emergency placement can be made. There's a waiting list of children that's already more than six months long," said Hermione.

"Six months?" Épiphanie exclaimed.

"Families are unwilling to take in the children of Death Eaters," Hermione replied.

"Well then, she stays with me."

"I really don't think that's wise, Épiphanie," said Kingsley.

"Are _you_ willing to take her in?"

"I'm sure you know that wouldn't be practical."

"Épiphanie, if the child is in danger, keeping her with you would place you in a perilous situation as well," said Harry.

"Right, because I've never been in danger before, Harry." She gave him a withering look. "Besides, I've already got a security detail. Listen to me. I'm the only one here who understands her unique nature. I'm certain that may be the reason she's in trouble."

"What unique nature?" Kingsley asked.

"She's a legilimens."

"That's not possible!" He looked at her in disbelief.

"She's barely five years old!" Hermione declared.

"I was expelled from first grade for the revelations I made due to my legilimency, Papa," she pointed out. "Look, I'm still grounded for the next two weeks. Why can't I look after her? Surely, that's enough time for you to find out where her mother is, and how she came to be running from someone in Knockturn Alley."

"I'm not comfortable with this, Épiphanie."

"Well, you might not like this idea either, Minister, but there is another option," Harry suggested. They all looked at him. "The wards around Malfoy Manor are quite strong."

"You're right. I don't like it, Harry." Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose.

A delighted giggle rang out from the other room. "Was that?" Hermione began. They all ventured back into the parlor where they found Grace happily sitting on Draco's knee, her curls bouncing, while he waved his wand to make Épiphanie's doll dance around the room. Ron looked on with a smile of amazement. When she saw Épiphanie, Grace jumped down and ran to her.

"Draco made the dolly dance!" she exclaimed.

"I see that!" Épiphanie lifted Grace into her arms and summoned the doll. They sat down on the sofa next to Draco. "Grace would you like to stay with me for a few days while the Aurors try to find your mommy?"

"Do you have toys?" the little girl asked. Épiphanie laughed. "I think I have a few. We can play with them if you'd like."

"Well, there's a whole nursery full of toys at the Manor," said Draco with a shrug. He gave her a meaningful look.

"Sir," said Harry, looking to Kingsley.

Kingsley sighed heavily. "Young man, what you are suggesting is an offer of protection for the girl _and_ my daughter. This is not something to be taken lightly."

"Minister, I have never taken Épiphanie's well-being lightly. The Manor has the strongest possible security spells. She and Grace will have the highest security at all times. I assure you."

"Normally, there would be an inspection of the home to ensure its suitability for the child—" Hermione began, but faltered. "Ahem—I erm—for the moment, I will take Harry's word that the home is acceptable."

"It's fine, Hermione. I'm sure that Draco will take care of any matters that might arise," Harry said. Ron placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. She smiled weakly, not wanting anyone to know how much she was still affected by her experiences at Malfoy Manor.

"Tickety! Pippy!" Draco snapped when they landed in the grand foyer of the house. The house elves immediately appeared and bowed low. "I would like for you to ready the nursery immediately. Then, please search my mother's storage and outfit the room with anything of Mother's that would be suitable for a girl of five. We will have dinner as soon as that is done."

"Yes, Master Draco!" the elves disappeared with a snap.

"So, you finally get your way," she said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"C'mon, Draco. You've been trying to get me to move into the Manor since we left school." She crossed her arms. "How Slytherin of you to manipulate this situation to get me here."

"Épiphanie, I love you, and I do stand by my feelings about you moving in, but that's not my motivation for this," he gestured to Grace. "I know Grace. Her brother was kind of a lump, but she means the world to him. He was once one of my best friends. Pureblood honor dictates that I see to her well-being."

Grace and Épiphanie both let out sighs of astonishment when they entered the nursery of Malfoy Manor shortly after their arrival. The suite was massive, with a play area, library, bedroom and en suite bath. The walls of the playroom were pale gray with crème-colored wainscot paneling and crown moulding. There was a border at the top of the wall depicting dragonflies that flitted around chasing fairies. An archway with pocket doors separated it from the library which featured a chalkboard and child-sized desk along with a well-stocked wall of bookshelves that reached the ceiling. The play area was a child's fantasy. There were stuffed animals of every type. A sofa and side chairs, perfectly sized for a child, were arranged in front of the fireplace which had a safety screen in front of it. Épiphanie recognized the rocking pony from the portrait on the second floor, and a ride-on dragon of similar design. Shelves along one wall held a chess board, backgammon, a deck of exploding snap cards, gobstones and other games, some of which Épiphanie recognized, others she assumed were magical. On another shelf, there were several figurines of dragons in crystal, wood, stone and precious metals. A small table was set with a tea service and a delicate antique toy pram stood near a tiny doll cradle. Another large table held an elaborate toy train. There was also an assortment of small brooms arranged in one corner.

The bedroom featured a large ornately carved canopy bed. A tufted bench sat at the foot of the bed and a rocking chair was placed beside the fireplace. A vanity with a gilded mirror sat between the tall windows that opened onto a stone balcony. Épiphanie opened the large wardrobe to find it filled with fine robes in all manner of lace, velvet, silk and satin. There were matching hats, ribbons and winter cloaks with jeweled fastenings. All of the suite's décor featured a dragonfly motif in muted shades of blue and green.

"But wasn't this your nursery?" Épiphanie asked, looking at the many feminine accoutrements.

"Yes, but when a new mistress and child enter, the nursery is transformed to their tastes and gender. Hence, the dragonflies," Draco replied, watching Grace set stuffed animals at the tea table.

"But I'm not the—"

"You _are_ the mistress of Malfoy Manor. Mother has made the villa at Aragon her permanent home." He took her hands. "For now, Ma Zirondelle, please accept this gift—for Grace. We'll worry about everything else when the time comes." He kissed her forehead.


	14. Cradle and All

They disillusioned themselves as soon as they landed. Harry would have preferred his invisibility cloak, but it would be impractical if they had to move apart. The Goyle house was stately, but much smaller in scale than Malfoy Manor. The property was surrounded by a low stone wall topped with a spiked iron fence. A gate opened to a bridge that crossed a stream and into a circular drive in front of the house. The gate swung on its hinges, squeaking in the still air. They drew their wands as they approached. The front door hung open, blasted from its frame, and Harry could sense it before their feet hit the doorstep.

"Dark magic," Ron muttered.

"Definitely."

They methodically moved through each room on the first floor. The house was still. They found upturned furniture and items strewn about, but something was off. They slowly mounted the stairs, ducking suddenly at the top, when an owl swooped down and flew out of the door. Again, they found no evidence that anyone was about. Finally, they reached the nursery. The door had been blasted off its hinges and lay in splinters. Harry's pulse was pounding in his ears. His palm felt sweaty as he gripped his wand.

" _Lily! Take Harry and run! …Please, no! Not my baby! …Haarryyyy!"_

Harry shook his head and gripped the wall to steady himself. Ron touched his shoulder and he flinched.

"I'm fine!" he whispered. He looked past the door, expecting to see a crib, but there was none. Finally, taking a deep breath to steady himself, Harry stepped forward, his wand lit.

The room was destroyed, but it was empty. They looked around, checking the wardrobe and bath.

"It doesn't make sense," said Harry.

"Harry, there's no sign of a struggle in here," said Ron.

"What do you mean? The place is a mess."

"Yes, but what's missing? Look at the books and things on the floor. There's no trace of blood on any of the broken china. No footprints on the torn paper. Someone wanted it to _look_ like there had been a struggle. Maybe they wanted to throw off their trail."

Harry took in the room again. The last rays of sunlight cast long shadows across the room and bathed it in a deep orange glow. Ron was right. There was a certain order to the mess. There were no curse marks on the walls or furniture. He moved to the window and looked out, scanning the gardens below.

"Ron, what's that? Is it—" He pointed to a small figure on the wide expanse of grass.

They raced down the stairs and ran around to the back of the house, searching until they came upon the figure, exhaling with relief. It was a baby doll. Harry picked it up.

"Grace must have dropped it. Harry, look, the grass is flattened here." Ron pointed his lit wand.

" _Lumos Maxima!"_ Harry flicked his wand, drawing it back before flicking it once more. The area around them was bathed in light, and they looked around, spotting it at the same time.

Elvira Goyle's lifeless body lay face down near the tree line, her wand hand outstretched as if she was in the process of casting a spell when she died.

"Dammit!" Harry swore. He looked back up at the house to the devastated room. In his mind's eye, the image of a green flash and a whirl of red hair falling away from him played over and over. Ron gave him a moment to collect himself, while he alerted the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

* * *

"Well?" asked Épiphanie when Harry and Ron arrived late the next morning. She sat on a bench beside the large fountain, trimming her broom's tail while Draco pushed Grace in a swing that he'd conjured in a large tree a few yards away. Draco's greyhounds, Castor and Pollux, gamboled nearby, chasing butterflies. She set the broom aside, and looked at them expectantly.

"We found her lying near the tree line behind the house. It looks like maybe she was trying to make an escape. Grace's room and the house had been deliberately trashed. We don't have any other clues."

"Is that _really_ Draco?" Ron gazed at them in astonishment.

"Takes to it easily, doesn't he? I'm amazed myself. Once she realized that he wasn't Lucius, she took to him like a long lost uncle." She turned her attention to the Aurors once more. "What now?"

"Do you think that we could talk to Grace? Maybe she will remember something."

"I suppose. Just be gentle. She cried out all night long. I ended up rocking her in the nursery all night." She looked up, as Draco approached, Grace's hand in his. Ron produced the doll and Grace pulled away from him, running forward.

"Freya!" she exclaimed, taking the doll and holding it close. "Did you go to my house?" she asked.

"We did," said Ron. "And this little lady was all alone in the grass."

Draco sat down beside Épiphanie and gave her a questioning look. She shook her head. He frowned. Grace shrank back from Ron a bit, pressing her nose into her doll's hair.

"Gracie," Draco beckoned her. She climbed into his lap, clutching the doll. "Ronald wants to know what happened to—"

"Freya."

"What happened to Freya?" He stroked her hair, careful not to disturb the bow that Épiphanie had tied in it when she dressed her that morning.

"I dropped her," she murmured.

"What were you doing when you dropped Freya?" Ron asked gently.

"Mother was walking very fast. I tried to keep up, but I dropped Freya. She told me to leave her, but I went back. That's when the man showed up."

"What man?"

"He said that he was a friend of Father's and that he needed my help. He had Freya in his hand and said she could go with us, but I dropped her again. The light was really bright, and then we disapparated."

"What light, Grace?" asked Harry. His voice was hoarse.

"The green light. I dropped Freya and covered my eyes."

"May I ask you one last question, Grace?" Ron asked. Draco held her close and she nodded.

"Do you know the name of the man who asked you for your help? The man who took you away from your house?"

Grace screwed up her face. "I don't remember! Was I naughty? Is that why Mother can't find me?" She looked up at Épiphanie with wide eyes.

"Oh, no, sugar! You weren't naughty." Épiphanie fought to keep her face neutral.

"You know what? Why don't you and Pippy take Freya up to the nursery and show her around?" Draco suggested. "You can have a tea party! Pippy!" The elf appeared with a crack. "Please take Grace to the nursery and stay with her until luncheon."

"Yes, Master Draco." The elf bowed low. Draco kissed the top of Grace's head and set her on the ground, where she took Pippy's hand. The elf snapped her fingers and they disappeared.

Épiphanie exhaled a frustrated sigh. Draco wrapped his arm around her. "What are we going to do now?"

"She still needs protection, my love. She'll stay here, however long that takes."

"She said he told her that he was a friend of her father. Could Goyle have any friends or associates who aren't in Azkaban?" Harry mused.

"I wouldn't know for sure. Those are not associates that I would have wished to keep." Draco frowned.

"Well, if you think of anyone, do let us know," said Harry.

"Of course."

"Join us for lunch, guys?" Épiphanie offered.

"Thanks, but we should stay on top of this. We'll keep you informed," he said.

They saw the Aurors to the gate and Draco took Épiphanie's hand as they walked back to the house to collect Grace for lunch.

"Drake, I'm due to start training again in another week. How will we manage this? She can't stay cooped up in The Manor, and I'm not quitting the team."

"My beloved, there are certain advantages that come with wealth. Security measures will be increased at the training facilities and the arena. You have your security detail. Gracie seems to have taken a certain liking to Pippy, and you know how protective house elves are. Dobby practically never left my side until he decided to rat out Lucius to Potter."

"Who's Dobby?" she asked.

"He was another of our house elves. Pippy's brother. Lucius treated him viciously—well, we all did really—but Lucius didn't appear to notice that Dobby was paying very close attention to his plotting to have the Chamber of Secrets reopened. He actually broke his bond of servitude to try to protect Harry. After he defeated the basilisk, Harry freed Dobby."

"I thought that house elves didn't want to be freed."

"They don't generally, but Dobby was different. After all, we didn't treat the elves then the way I do now. It's still an adjustment for Diggy, Tickety and Pippy, you know."

"Well, where is Dobby now?"

"Dead. Aunt Bellatrix killed him when he stole her wand and helped Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dean, Luna and Garrick Ollivander escape The Manor during the war. He remained loyal to Harry to the end of his life. That's the true nature of house elves."

"It's still somewhat appalling."

"I suppose for someone who didn't grow up in the wizarding world it would be. Still, they will help us. We will protect Grace together." He gave her a squeeze.


	15. House of Pain

He stares across the table at Narcissa and Lucius, his stomach in knots. The contorted and bound figure floating above them whimpers, and it takes all of his might to avoid turning his eyes to her. His neck is stiff from the effort of ignoring her and avoiding the snakelike gaze of the man at the head of the table with the massive serpent draped about his shoulders.

His aunt lets out a maniacal laugh beside him that causes him to flinch. They are talking about her now—the Muggle Studies professor. He sees her tears drip onto the table, and then she speaks, her voice barely a whisper.

"Draco?" she whimpers. Why would she be calling out to him? He doesn't know her. He'd certainly never taken a class such as Muggle Studies. He focuses his eyes on the two wet spots on the table, but there's something in her voice—it's oddly familiar.

"Draco, please! You _know_ me!"

Despite his efforts, he finds his gaze drawn painfully upward to the bound witch suspended above the Death Eaters. He is horrified to discover that it's not the face of Charity Burbage whose eyes gaze desperately at him, but Épiphanie's.

"No!" he chokes out a strangled cry which causes everyone's attention to turn his way.

"Yes, my boy. We know that you would never deign to enroll in such a class," the Dark Lord hissed.

"I—" he finds himself unable to speak as he stares at her. Tears wet his face.

"Pull yourself together, boy!" Bellatrix whispers vehemently in his ear. "Pity is for the _weak!_ "

The Dark Lord raises his wand. Draco tries to go for his own—to do what no one else in the room has the courage to do—to defy him. For his beloved, he will kill or be killed, but he doesn't seem able to move. He stares at her, frantic. She pleads with him for help, but he is frozen, as if under a body-bind curse. In an instant, it is over. He hears the curse issue forth in a sibilant voice, a flash of green and her lifeless body drops to the table, eyes open and vacant, staring accusingly at him.

* * *

Draco's screams echoed through the hall as he thrashed about, tangled in his bedding.

"Draco!" he heard a voice calling his name. "Draco!"

He flung himself up, wand in hand, and pointed it wildly.

"Draco!"

" _Avada Kedavra!"_ The jet of green burst forth, singeing the bed curtains. He heard a thump, and pulled himself from the stupor of his nightmare to find himself standing in the middle of his bed. He panted, pushing his sweat-dampened hair out of his face. He fell to his knees, dropping his wand among the twisted sheets, and crawled to the edge of the bed. He looked over and his blood ran cold.

"No!" he stumbled to the floor and fell beside Épiphanie's motionless body. "No, no-no-no-no-no-no!" He gathered her into his arms. "Épiphanie! My immortal beloved! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he crooned, tears spattering her face.

"Mmm! Draco!" she murmured, her eyes fluttering. She reached a hand up and covered his lips. "Did you just fucking cast a killing curse at me!"

"I—how? I—" He stared at her in disbelief. "I didn't—I'm—but you were—"

She pushed herself up and groaned, pressing her hand to her head. "Shit!" she hissed. "Jesus! What were you thinking! That could have been Grace!"

Draco finally found his voice. "Your head!" He scrambled to his feet and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed, where he gently laid her against the pillows. "Merlin and Salazar! My darling! I thought you were dead!" He summoned a phial of essence of dittany, and began urgently dabbing the wound above her eyebrow.

"Would have been too, had I not such good reflexes. Guess I owe that to you for all those defensive flying drills, except I tripped and hit my head on the bed." She hissed as he applied the potion to the cut on her forehead. "A killing curse? Really, Drake?" she pushed his hands away and sat up. "What _was_ that dream?"

Draco shuddered and retched. He ran to the bath and heaved the feeble contents of his stomach. Épiphanie followed him and wet a rag, which she placed at the back of his neck.

"I…thought…it was…y-you…" he gulped, as his stomach spasmed. "She—he k-killed…I—why…won't he…let me go?" He sank to the floor, and she gathered him into her arms.

"Because, you have to let go first, my bébé. The dreams won't stop because you drink a potion, or because I'm there to make it better, or because you—"

He knew she was about to refer to his relationship with Neville, and wondered for a moment whether it bothered her more than she let on.

"It's why I didn't want to move into the house. This house is dripping with negative energy from all of the evil and dark things that have taken place here. It's holding on to the pain, horror and anguish. You have to drive it out. You have to drive them out."

Draco sighed. "I just want to be free."

* * *

"Finish your lunch, Grace," Épiphanie said. She dabbed at her lips with a napkin.

"I don't _like_ carrots," the little girl whined. She slouched in her chair.

"Well-bred ladies do not whine, and they do not _slouch_ at the table," Draco said crisply. He lifted his wine glass and waited for her to comply. Grace continued to pout. "Perhaps if you are too weary to finish your meal, a _nap_ is in order?" He raised a brow. Grace straightened in her chair and speared several carrot slices with her fork.

"Why do I get the distinct impression, that Lucius used this same tactic with someone else I know?" Épiphanie grinned. Draco grimaced at the comparison to his father. "Hey, not all of the habits we pick up from our parents are a bad thing. I'm still discovering the things that I have in common with Kingsley."

"Will we still get the surprise?" Grace asked, her mouth full of carrots.

"What surprise?" Épiphanie asked. "And don't talk with your mouth full, sweetie."

"Gracie, it's not nice to go peeking around in other people's thoughts." Draco gave her a reproving look.

"I'm sorry." Grace pushed her carrots around on her plate.

"It's alright, Charis, but you must always practice some self-control."

"She'll learn, Drake. It took me awhile to learn when it is appropriate to look into the minds of others."

"It appears that _you_ are still in need of practice, Ma Zirondelle," Draco eyed her over the rim of his glass. Épiphanie shrugged and gave a devious grin.

"So, are you going to show us this surprise or not?" She asked. Draco languorously sipped his wine while the two witches waited expectantly.

"Freya wants to go now," said Grace.

"Yeah, Draco. Freya is _really_ impatient. Look, she can't sit still!" Épiphanie teased, waving her hand. The doll in the chair beside Grace began to bounce up and down.

"Where's your wand?" Grace asked.

"It's in my pocket," said Épiphanie.

"You didn't use it."

"No, I didn't."

"How did you do that?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Gregory said that only the most powerful wizards can do magic without a wand." She drank her milk. "Can I be like you?"

"I don't know, sugar. We'll just have to see. You're pretty special. Not many witches can do legilimency at such a young age, like you." Épiphanie smiled at her.

"How about we see that surprise, now?" Draco set his glass down firmly and pushed away from the table. He stood and held out his hand. Grace grabbed Freya and took his hand. Épiphanie took his arm as he led them upstairs to the third floor.

"What's in there?" the little girl asked when they stopped outside a door near the end of the corridor in the west wing.

"This, little one, was my mother's favorite room in the whole of The Manor. Father had it created just for her as a wedding gift, because he knew what her most favorite activity was. When I was a boy, before going off to Hogwarts, I would spend hours in here watching her, and she shared her passion for it with me. I happen to know that Lady Épiphanie enjoys this activity as well. Therefore, I had the elves clean and polish everything in here so that she might take advantage of it and share her passion with you." He winked at her and tweaked her nose. "Open the door," he whispered.

The room was long and the sun streamed through the tall bare windows, filling the room with bright light and casting diamond-shaped patterns across the highly polished wood floors. There was a wall of mirrors on one side of the room and a double barre ran along the opposite wall. A piano stood in one corner. Grace ran into the room and gazed at herself in the mirror. Épiphanie moved more slowly, examining the room and sliding her foot over the smooth parquet floor.

"I'm still working out the charms that will allow a shelf stereo to operate, but your portable should do fine with a sonorous charm," said Draco. He placed his small CD player on the piano and flicked his wand. A Viennese waltz began to play. Grace giggled as she watched Draco bow and take Épiphanie into frame. They glided around the space with ease and refinement. Grace clapped excitedly.

"Your turn!" Épiphanie declared when they finished. She took Freya from Grace and Draco gave her a low bow. Grace looked up at him seriously and gave a curtsy. She took his hands and followed him around the floor with the poise of a much older witch, gazing up at him adoringly. Épiphanie looked on with amazement. When the song ended, Draco bowed and turned the girl out. She twirled easily and gave a perfect curtsy. "Wow!" Épiphanie exclaimed.

"Did I do well?"

"You were remarkable, honey!"

"Every pureblood child of breeding learns the dances from the time we can walk," Draco pointed out. "The Twenty-Eight Ball is about the only one to which young children are not invited, but children attend many private dances and nearly all of the balls in season. I do hope you both like the studio."

"It's great." Épiphanie took a few steps and did a series of fouettés before slowly lowering herself to the floor in a split. Grace awkwardly copied her. Her wobbly pirouettes and split were decidedly less than graceful and she bounced on her bottom as she landed.

"Will you teach me to do it like you?"

"I sure will. But you have to promise to eat your vegetables so that you grow strong bones and muscles." Épiphanie stood, and held Freya out to the girl.

"I promise!" Grace hugged her doll and yawned.

"And now, how about that nap?" Draco lifted her into his arms.

"But I'm not sleepy!" she argued.

By the time they reached the nursery in the east wing, the doll hung limply from Grace's fingers and her head lolled against Draco's shoulder. He placed her on the bed and Épiphanie drew a blanket over her shoulders. They stood together, holding hands and watched the child sleeping peacefully before they withdrew from the suite. Pippy appeared immediately and busied herself tidying the rooms.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"I'm about as ready as I'll ever be." He shrugged nervously.

Épiphanie summoned a large rucksack, and hooked it over her shoulder. She took his hand.

"You take to parenthood quite well, Draco. I'm rather surprised," said Épiphanie, as they strolled down the corridor.

"I think I have surprised myself. Lucius was never very demonstrative with his feelings towards me, unless I had displeased him in some way."

"Did he hit you?"

"Occasionally, but Lucius had plenty of other means of meting out punishment that were much more…uncomfortable. Perhaps it is why I am so skilled at dueling. Once I acquired a wand, the field certainly began to level."

They continued through the corridor and up the stairs as they talked, until they reached the attic. Épiphanie took in the sheer number of chests, statuary and furniture draped in protective fabrics and enchantments, that filled the space like a gathering of ghosts. This task would be like none other which she had ever performed.

"What's in all of these chests and trunks?" she asked Draco.

"As far as I know, clothing, unused items from various trousseaux belonging to the Malfoy women. Most of them should be empty."

"Okay, that should make it a bit easier." They levitated the trunks and furniture into neat piles out of the way.

First, she cast a spell to remove the layer of dust that coated everything. Draco watched with fascination as she pulled the cloth from a large table and placed a ceramic bowl in the center. Beside this, she placed the four elements—earth, air, fire, water—in the form of a crystal, incense, a white candle, and a small vessel of water. She laid out an array of bottles and herbs.

" _Aguamenti!_ " She filled the bowl with water, and heated it.

Épiphanie methodically added what looked to Draco to be more water from each of the bottles, and systematically shredded the herbs. Finally, she added indigo, her fingertips turning blue. Once the brew had cooled. She conjured another bowl and strained away the herbs and solids.

"Ugh! Merlin, what is that?" Draco asked, when she uncapped the last bottle, the caustic fumes floating into the air.

"Ammonia. Some muggles use it for cleaning—others, for more nefarious deeds," she said. She added a minute amount to the now cooled brew and conjured a bucket, pouring the brew into it and adding more water. Next, she conjured two mops and dunked them into the bucket.

"Come on," she said to Draco, who looked at her in confusion. "What are you waiting for—an invitation?" She passed him one mop and wrung out the other.

"What is this for?" he asked awkwardly holding the mop.

"How did you think we were going to do this?" she asked.

"Isn't there a spell, or—"

"Lord, Jesus! Don't you even know how to use a mop?" she rolled her eyes.

"No. Why would I?"

"Well, aren't you glad that this is an easy object to use? All you do is wring out the strands to avoid wasting water, and then pass it over the floor like this?" She moved over to the far corner and began to mop. Draco watched her for a moment, and slowly moved his own mop over the floor in the opposite corner. After a few minutes of hunching over the cleaning tool, Draco huffed out loud.

"You know we have a spell for this," he said, raising his wand.

"Huh?" Épiphanie continued methodically mopping her end of the attic floor, working her way to the center.

" _Piertotum Locomotor!_ " Draco pointed his wand at the mop and it began to move over the floor of its own accord, while he perched on top of a trunk and watched.

Épiphanie turned to rinse her mop again and spied the animate mop. She let out a horrified gasp.

"What the hell? What are you doing?" she exclaimed.

"Mopping," he replied matter-of-factly.

"No! Don't you know the story of the sorcerer's apprentice!" she pointed her wand at the mop and it fell to the floor with a clatter.

"The who?" Draco looked at her absently.

"You're kidding. You don't know a centuries old story about a sorcerer and his apprentice? I heard that story before I ever knew I was a witch! Disney even made a short film about it!" She leaned on her mop, looking at him incredulously.

"Who's Disney?"

"Jesus take the wheel! The sorcerer's apprentice flooded the entire place and nearly drowned because he was too lazy to do his own chores. He animated his broom to do it for him, then he fell asleep."

"Bu-ut, I'm not an apprentice, and I'm not asleep," Draco countered, perplexed by her story. Épiphanie let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Boo, there's nothing wrong with doing manual labor. It builds character, and you feel a true sense of accomplishment having done something with your own two hands. Now, get your spoiled, filthy rich ass up and get to work. I've nearly finished my half of the floor and we still have four floors to go!"

Draco reluctantly slid from his perch on top of the large chest and picked up the mop, passing it slowly over the floor in a wide, sloppy swath, as he grumbled about what the use of being a wizard was if you couldn't use magic.

"Just as weird as _Potter!"_ he muttered under his breath.

"What was that, ma bébé?" Épiphanie called, as she cast another spell over the wash to make sure that it didn't run out.

"I said, I must really love you, if I'm stooping to… _muggle_ labor."

"Of course you do!" She rolled her eyes. "When you've finished, grab that brush." She conjured a scrub brush and tossed it in his direction. "So we can do the stairs."

"The sun had long set by the time they finally reached the first floor. They mopped every room and corridor, and scrubbed every stair, Épiphanie reciting the twenty-third psalm as they went about the chore. Tired and beyond sore, Épiphanie had grudgingly given in to Draco's insistence that animating the mops would be easier and faster.

Once they reached the first floor, Épiphanie took the herbs that she had strained from the brew and sprinkled them over the gardens just outside the house. Finally, they turned their attention to the drawing room. Draco stood at the doors, his hands shaking, unable to bring himself to touch the latch. The image of Charity Burbage falling dead on the table, and being consumed by Nagini, flashed repeatedly through his mind. He recalled the Dark Lord's wrath when they'd been unable to stop Harry and the others from escaping. The sound of Hermione's screams as his aunt Bellatrix tortured her for information and carved the word _mudblood_ into her flesh echoed in his ears. The bitter, metallic odor of blood and death lingered in his nostrils and turned his stomach.

He hadn't entered this room since his first return to The Manor, when he'd been confronted by Lucius after his trip to America. Épiphanie placed her hand on his shoulder and he flinched. He looked at her for a second, and gazing upon her sympathetic smile, he gripped the brass door handles tightly, swinging open the double doors. The massive table that had dominated the space at the height of the war had been removed shortly after their return to The Manor following the trials, but he felt its presence. When he looked up at the gilt mirror above the mantelpiece at the far end of the room, he was sure that the table was reflected there, the ghosts of the fallen Death Eaters, sitting around it.

Draco's heart began to pound furiously in his chest. He struggled to breathe. He stared down at the dark wood floor, seeing the blood as if it was still fresh. He gasped for air. Suddenly, a searing pain erupted from his wrist and he screamed. Épiphanie had her hand upon it—the Dark Mark. It was burning! Why was it burning? He snatched away from her, but she held him firm as if she couldn't let go.

"Draco! Breathe!" she said, firmly.

"Let go! Let go!" he cried. Her face was hard, and her eyes cold as she looked at him. "Stop it!" His wand was in his hand now, but he didn't point it at her. He pointed it at the mirror. " _Confringo!_ " The orange light reflected back at them blindingly in the mirror's reflection, before it exploded, raining shards of glass over them.

Draco continued to fling curses, blasting apart all of the furniture in the room, until the entire space was littered with debris. His shoulders shook with fury and despair, and Draco hung his head, his long pale tresses hiding his face. He had stopped attempting to pull away from Épiphanie's grasp as she held on to his wrist, gazing intently at him.

 _Evanesco!_ All of the detritus of his rampage was vanished.

 _Piertotum Locomotor!_

The mops moved into the room and began to swish back and forth over the floor, starting at the corners and making their way across the room.

"We beseech You, O Lord, visit this home, and drive far from it all the snares of the enemy. Let Your holy angels dwell therein so as to preserve us in peace; and let Your blessing be always upon us. Through Christ our Lord. Amen. Our Father, who art in heaven Hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation and deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, Forever and ever. Amen." Épiphanie repeated the prayers until the entire floor had been washed.

She led him out into the foyer where the mops were still moving over the floor. The clock in the library was chiming two a.m. when they moved across the space and out the front door, where she produced a jar of brick dust and scrubbed the front step. She waved her wand and a cloud of the dust rose from the jar. With another flick of her wand, the dust cloud swirled into a funnel and moved around the mansion, depositing a bit of itself at every entrance They turned to face the house.

"Bless this home! Let love grow here, let wisdom flourish, and peace be near! Bless this home! Let it protect life, let it nurture you, and be free of strife! Bless this home!" Her voice was clear and strong, and seemed to resound in the air as if she'd used a sonorous charm.

"Draco." She turned to him in the darkness, moonlight reflecting in her dark eyes.

The pounding in his chest had subsided, and the despairing rage that had overtaken him was gone. The burning in his wrist had stopped, and he shuddered, lifting his eyes to meet hers.

"It's over." She pulled him into an embrace. "It's done."


	16. Unanswered Questions

"Mother is _dead?_ " Gregory Goyle wore an expression of defeat. The manacles on his wrists rattled as he shivered, wiping a hand over his haggard features. Gone was the beefy, swaggering bully who had delighted in doing Draco Malfoy's dirty work and wielded a beater's bat with vicious glee.

"I'm sorry," said Harry.

"Grace!" he suddenly exclaimed, his fists balled on the table between them. "What about Gracie? Is she—" His eyes were wide and fearful, an expression Harry had only ever seen during the battle when Crabbe set the room of requirement ablaze with fiendfyre and they found themselves running for their lives.

"Grace is unhurt. She is safe."

"How—what? Where is she?" he asked.

"She is under Ministry protection in an undisclosed location."

Gregory's father was silent throughout this whole exchange. Harry regarded him curiously. The man seemed entirely unconcerned with the fate of his wife and child. His eyes were fixed on the wall behind Harry, his back straight and rigid.

"Goy—Gregory, Grace said that the man who took her said he was a friend of your father's. Mr. Goyle, can you think of anyone that might be?"

The older man looked at him now, a malevolent expression on his face.

"You _dare_ to speak to me! Filthy, fucking blood traitors ruined _everything!_ "

"Father!" Gregory exclaimed.

"And _you_ shut your pathetic mouth! You always were too _stupid_ to be a true Slytherin even! Following Malfoy like a lap dog! He was _weak!_ Just like his father! A fawning sycophant who ran like a rat when the time came to fight! Remember where you are, boy, while they happily returned to their _Manor_ like nothing ever happened. Lucius always was a slippery one!"

"Lucius Malfoy is dead, Mr. Goyle."

"Choked on a fish bone no doubt," the man muttered.

"Killed actually—in a foiled terror plot on the United States that included an assassination attempt on The Minister's daughter. And you should know that it was Draco Malfoy who was able to identify your daughter when she was rescued." Harry turned his attention away from the senior Goyle and back to Gregory. "Draco has taken a personal interest in our investigation, on your sister's behalf. He knows how much she means to you, Gregory. Please, try to think of anyone who might have had a reason to want to take Grace or harm her."

"I—I just don't know, Potter. Everyone is either dead or here in prison with us."

Harry gave a dissatisfied sigh, and stood. He waved for the guards to come for the two convicts.

"Potter—Harry?" Gregory paused as he was led out. Harry held up his hand for the guard to wait. "T—tell Gracie that I love her. Draco will take care of her. She likes him."

"I will."

"Father never cared for Grace. He wanted another boy, one who might have been smarter than me. He thought daughters were only useful for adding to one's wealth. Um—" he struggled to find his words. There were some who got away, you know. People think that they're dead, but they aren't."

Harry's face was grim as he watched the Slytherin who had once tormented him and his friends, shuffle out of the chamber looking tired and defeated.


	17. Caning the Dragon

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Dragon Grove Arena! We have a thrilling matchup for you today, with the Wiltshire Dragons meeting the Falmouth Falcons! And the teams are taking the pitch. The Dragons are led by Seeker, Draco Malfoy, and there she is, our starting Chaser Épiphanie Glapion-Shacklebolt, who was sidelined following an off-pitch injury. The Dragons are currently behind Holyhead by 200 and Kenmare by 90 points in the league standings. A win today would mean a guaranteed appearance in the Cup tournament…"

"Professor McGonagall, Madame Hooch! Pleasure to have you with us," Harry smiled warmly as the headmistress and flying instructor entered the owner's box. He showed them to seats behind the wall of glass that overlooked the pitch, where Dean, Seamus, Neville, Hannah, Ron, Ginny and Hermione were seated, along with Kingsley, Angelique and most of the Weasley clan.

"This is certainly a lavishly appointed box, Mr. Potter. She looked at the leather seating, complimentary omnioculars, extravagantly laid buffet and the house elves that circulated the room with trays of butterbeer and champagne.

"Well, you know Malfoy." Harry shrugged.

Minerva's eyes fell on Teddy, whose hair was green today and the older, curly-haired girl sitting on the floor with him playing with stuffed Dragon mascots. "And who is young Edward's playmate?"

"Grace Goyle."

"Goyle?" The elderly witch gave Harry a look of astonishment. "I should imagine there is a story there, Potter? One involving Mr. Malfoy, perhaps?" She raised a brow. Harry lowered his voice.

"There is, but I am not at liberty to share all of it. Suffice it to say that Draco and Épiphanie are her de facto godparents."

The headmistress' brows rose even higher than Harry could have imagined. "And I am to assume, from the level of your voice that The Minister and his wife are not particularly pleased with this development." She whispered. Harry acknowledged her with a nod.

"Draco!" Grace exclaimed, standing in front of the window. She pointed as Draco sped past. "Look, Teddy!" She grabbed the toddler's hand and dragged him to the window. He bounced up and down beside her as the announcer's voice filled the room.

"The seekers are up and the snitch is released. There's the bludgers! The beaters are in the air and the referee is holding the quaffle. It's up! And Shacklebolt takes possession! The Dragons are starting off with the Woollongong Shimmy! It seems to work, as Shacklebolt goes into a dive!"

A startled gasp whispered through the box as they watched Épiphanie pull out of the dive a few feet before she reached the ground, and race down the pitch, her broom close to the ground. Bludgers bounced off the grass around her, carving deep divots in the earth. She shot upward at the scoring zone, her body and broom vertical. She tossed the quaffle into the air and swung her body out away from her broom, kicking it through the goal and settling her feet back into the stirrups after completing the rotation.

"Shacklebolt _scores_ with an _amazing_ new maneuver! It's no secret what she's been up to during her downtime! …the quaffle is back in play, and the Falcons take possession…"

"Holy shit!" Dean exclaimed. "She just did a scissor kick on a broom! Is that _legal?_ "

The game went on for six hours as the two teams battled for control of the quaffle. Draco smiled to himself as he watched Épiphanie's triumphant return to the pitch. She was in fine form, scoring more than 150 points in goals and assists. He caught a glimmer of gold on the opposite side of the pitch, and glanced furtively at the Falcon's seeker, who was circling above him. Draco decided on a sneak attack and flew casually in a wide path around the perimeter of the pitch. He was within a few yards of the snitch when the opposing seeker sped across the pitch in his direction. Draco cursed and crouched on his broom, putting on a burst of speed. The snitch zoomed out of reach and he gave chase. He stretched low over his broomstick, three lengths ahead of the other seeker. The crowd roared as the tiny gold ball zipped around the perimeter of the pitch. Draco rolled to avoid a bludger and the other seeker overtook him as he lost speed. He urged the Firebolt on and they were shoulder to shoulder, the stands a blur as they raced for the glimmering prize ahead of them.

The snitch suddenly shot upward and the Falcons seeker was still on him as they soared upward.

"…and it's a dogfight for the snitch as Malfoy and Ramsey climb after it shoulder to shoulder…the snitch has changed direction again, and it dives—Oh! Ramsey has knocked Malfoy from his broom!"

Draco gritted his teeth and tucked in his arms and legs as he dove. He felt for his wand in the leg of his trousers. _Fuck! Merlin, let me survive this!_ He was alongside the broom now, and felt the magical connection drawing them together. Draco grabbed the broomstick with one hand, groping for the footrests blindly. As his feet finally seated themselves, he stretched out his free hand and snatched the snitch out of the air. He leaned back and pulled hard on the broomstick coming out of the dive in the nick of time.

"…and Malfoy grabs the snitch with the Shacklebolt Special! That makes the score 780 to 700! The Dragons win! The Dragons win!"

The cheers of the crowd were deafening as the teams landed on the grass below. Suddenly a giant green dragon with shimmering paper scales rose above the trees on the north side of the arena. It spread golden wings and flew over the stadium. The crowd was transfixed as the dragon circled above the pitch and exploded into a shower of golden confetti and streamers that rained down onto the field as fireworks shot high into the air.

Épiphanie dragged into her private suite of rooms. Although Draco argued that it wasn't necessary, she felt obligated to demonstrate to her parents—especially Angelique, who still considered eighteen too young for many of the privileges enjoyed by other wizards and witches of age—that she wasn't taking advantage of the situation to "shack up" with her boyfriend. She was more than grateful that the day had exhausted Grace so that she fell immediately to sleep the moment she climbed into bed. In the few weeks that the child had been in their custody, Épiphanie had developed a new sense of respect for young and working mothers.

Draco was waiting for her when she entered the bedchamber, leaning against the window and looking out at the night sky, the leather quiver that Neville had given her on the day that Grace came into their life slung over his shoulder. She'd forgotten all about it, what with learning to parent and returning to Quidditch training. In fact, Épiphanie didn't even remember ever giving him the parcel. Now, seeing him look at her with a predatory gleam in his eye, she wondered again at the contents of the cylindrical leather case.

"That was some badass flying today," she said and bent to remove her shoes. "I didn't know you had been practicing The Special."

"I hadn't been. I was scared shitless and had my hand on my wand just in case." He turned to her then. "That was quite a maneuver you pulled at the beginning of the match too. What do you call it?"

"I think I'd call it lucky not to be illegal," she replied.

"Oh?" Draco looked at her with interest. She stepped out of her shoes and directed them to the wardrobe.

"You're going to be pissed." She looked at him warily. "It's a variant of a soccer—uh—football maneuver called a scissor kick."

"Merlin! You can't be serious?" Draco exclaimed, taken aback. Épiphanie shrugged sheepishly.

"Maybe Maddock wasn't quite that far off the mark—just his execution."

Draco moved to her then, wrapping his arms about her waist. "How _cleverly_ resourceful of you, love. And people wonder how it is you were placed in Slytherin. In _fact_ , perhaps we should call it the Slytherin Swing." He slid his hands up her back and wrapped her braid around his fist, pulling her head back and looking deep into her eyes. "Yes, I rather like that." His voice was so low as to be almost a growl. "However, mixing muggle sport—tsk tsk—that was quite naughty, Dragonfly."

He pulled her head back further and licked her throat, taking her collar between his lips and giving it a little tug. "How shall we rectify that?" he whispered. "Naughtiness simply _cannot_ go unpunished, now can it?" Épiphanie swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. He yanked it harder. "I _asked_ you a question."

"Um, no." she whispered. Draco released her hair and gripped her collar of her robes. He gave a forceful tug, ripping them away. She gasped, clutching at the tattered fabric. "Draco, those were—" He grabbed her by the throat, pressing hard.

"Did I ask you to speak?" he snarled. She shook her head. He pressed his lips to hers, parting them with his tongue until she responded urgently. Suddenly, they disapparated.

Draco continued to kiss her when they landed in the darkened chamber. She blinked for a moment, adjusting to the dim lighting. He stepped back, letting his fingers linger over her skin as he drew away. She shivered a bit in anticipation, staring at the leather cylinder. Draco was silent as he circled her like a cat stalking its prey.

" _Ligare Eam!_ "

Her hands were bound directly above her head. Draco slowly traced his fingertips all over her body, bringing goosebumps to the surface of her skin. Her pulse quickened and her breathing was shallow. She could feel her clit twitch and her center began to throb between her legs. She bit her lip.

" _Sublevo!"_

She felt herself being lifted from the ground, her feet dangling inches above the floor, and gasped.

"Shh. Trust me, love." He began to move his hands over her body again, this time, pushing her dangling legs apart and sinking his fingers deep inside her, his thumb over her clit. As she became more aroused, Épiphanie's legs gave a jerk. Each spasm of pleasure sent her swinging just a bit.

"Mm!"

"Open!" Draco commanded. He shoved his slick fingers into her mouth. "Lick them clean, love." She sucked on his slender digits, her tongue sliding between them as he gently pushed them back and forth down her throat. "Good girl!"

He dragged his fingers from her mouth over her chin, and trailed them down her chest. Draco picked up the quiver and removed the cap. He withdrew a long rattan rod with a carved handle attached.

"A cane, love." Draco held it in both hands, giving it a subtle flex. He smiled devilishly. "Just the sort of thing for _correcting_ …" He drew the tip of the cane over her skin as he began to walk around her again. "…naughty behavior. Don't you think?" He gave it a slash through the air, and Épiphanie could hear the whipping sound that it made. She licked her lips. He moved behind her.

"I should like to mark you now, love." He traced the cane down her back.

"Um—y-yes."

"Good girl." He touched the cane to her shoulder. "I think…" Touch to her hip. "…one stroke…" He lifted her hair over her shoulder. "…for each…" Touch to her buttock. "…point…" Touch to her thigh. "…scored…" She shuddered. "Count."

The first stroke lightly burned the flesh on her ass. It reminded her of the punishments handed out during her brief time in Catholic school, though her flesh wasn't exposed then.

"Mm! One!" she bit out, her free legs twitching.

The second stroke bit harder.

"Two!" She gritted her teeth.

"You're anticipating, love. Relax." He touched her gently, bringing a hand around to caress one tit, and her muscles went slack. Draco lashed harder this time, and she drew her knees up as she cried out.

"Three! Mmm!" Another. "Four!" She began to writhe about, her feet reaching fruitlessly for purchase. Another—this one stinging the backs of her thighs. "Five! Ah! Mmm! Mmm! Please!" Another. "Six! Oh!" Épiphanie twisted and bucked.

Draco grabbed her about the waist, her burning flesh screaming against the fabric of his jumper. "We're halfway there, love. Be a good girl, and I won't add on to your punishment." His voice was silky and dripping with seductive venom. She shuddered violently, whimpering. He moved away from her, and the loss of friction against her skin was palpable. Before she could register a sense of calm, the next stroke set her ablaze once more.

"Shit! Seven!" She curled her toes. The next. "Eight!" Another came quickly after. "Nine!" Tears filled her eyes. She panted with excitement and agony. He dragged the cane over her battered skin until he finally administered the final stroke. "Ten!"

Épiphanie moaned breathlessly as she hung suspended in the space. Draco touched cool hands to her backside, his fingers gliding over the welts that marred her dark skin.

"My gods you look amazing, love." He bent forward and kissed her hot flesh. " _Descendo!_ " She was lowered to the ground, and swayed a bit as she regained her footing. Draco kissed her fervently, his fingers finding their way between her legs once more. "So wet! I love it when you are aroused, my love," he whispered, grasping her hips and pulling her to him. She could feel his bulging erection pressing his trousers. " _Exsolvo!"_ He released her bindings and gripped her tightly about the waist, disapparating.

They landed in Draco's bedchamber, where he lifted her in his arms and carried her into to the large shower. He flicked his wand and the multiple shower heads came to life with warm water that stung, then soothed her burning flesh.

"Your clothes!" she exclaimed, realizing that he hadn't undressed before stepping into the shower with her, the water plastering the expensive fabric to his skin. He shrugged, and kissed her with abandon before vanishing his clothing. They stood in the spray kissing and touching each other all over before Draco spun her around, pressing her against the smooth stone wall. He ground his hips against hers for several minutes, his erection sliding in the cleft of her ass which still tingled from the beating. Finally, he lifted her hips and pushed into her hot, tight cunt.

Épiphanie moaned loudly as he moved slowly and methodically, teasing her. Her tired legs quivered and she struggled to keep standing as she pushed back against him. Sensing her weakness, Draco pumped hard, eliciting from her a cry of surprised ecstasy and pulled out.

"No—wait!" she exclaimed, hungry for more. He gently turned her around and lifted her up, his hands gripping her slick bottom. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to his neck as he pushed her down on his cock, using the wall for leverage. "Oh, God! Yes! Yes!" she screamed over the rushing water.

"Fuck! Mmmm! I fucking love you so much!" he growled. She closed her eyes and fisted Draco's hair as she clenched around him as tightly as possible. Draco choked and gasped, throwing his head back.

"Shit! Yes! Yes! Yes!" Épiphanie held tightly to him, knowing that he would soon lose his grip. He pinned her against the wall, thrusting hard as she rode him into a shared orgasm. They slid to the floor, panting and shaking beneath the water that poured over them.


	18. Foundlings

_**The lyrics to the lullaby that Épiphanie sings to the children are in Sotho, and somewhat imprecise, as I wrote them phonetically, and I was unsure of some of the spellings._

* * *

"Draco, you're not _listening!_ " Grace complained. They were taking breakfast in the morning room, the early spring sun beaming through the tall windows and warming them as they ate.

"Of course I am, love, but you need a license to own a kneazle. They're three-X classified." Draco sipped his tea.

"What's a kneazle?" asked Épiphanie.

"Something like a large, evil magical cat," Draco replied with disdain. He cut his sausage.

"They're _really_ smart and they can help you find your way home," said Grace.

"They're also suspicious and aggressive," said Draco with disdain.

"Only to people who are naughty," Grace argued.

"Your cereal is getting soggy," Draco pointed out in the hopes of ending the debate.

Diggy appeared just as Wei-Wei and Hatshepsut flew in with the post.

"What is it Diggy?"

"Master Draco, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are at the gate."

Draco and Épiphanie exchanged looks.

"Show them to the library and send Pippy to supervise Grace while she finishes her breakfast." He took the mail from his owl and stood.

"Has there been a development?" he asked when Harry and Ron entered the library.

"Not exactly the type we want. Have you had a look at today's headline?" Harry indicated the paper in Draco's hand. He unfolded it and Épiphanie looked over his shoulder.

 _MURDER AT AZKABAN PRISON: Former Death Eater Slashed in Cell_

 _"_ _Guards at Azkaban Prison found the body of Gideon Goyle, aged 55, on the floor of his cell late last night. The former Death Eater was serving a life sentence for crimes committed during the Wizarding Wars as well as aiding and abetting The Dark Lord in the siege of Hogwarts in 1998. Goyle's son, Gregory is also serving a life sentence, but is reported to be unharmed._

 _The cause of death was determined to be exsanguination. Mr. Goyle appears to have suffered a number of slashes to his throat. Guards and investigators are unsure how anyone gained access to the inmate's locked cell._

 _The murder of Goyle's wife, Elvira also remains under investigation by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the whereabouts of his daughter are as yet unknown, though sources say that the girl is under Ministry protection at an undisclosed location."_

Draco tossed the paper onto the desk and heaved a sigh. Épiphanie began to pace.

"How does that _bloody_ well even happen?" he demanded.

"I'm as stunned as you are. Guards say he was alive and well when the dinner pass was made. We're investigating everything and everyone on his block and going over the cell with a fine-toothed comb," said Harry.

"Did he give you _any_ useful information when you interviewed him?" Ron asked.

"Didn't even bother to speak or inquire after Grace's well-being, except to insult me and blame Draco and Lucius for their incarceration. He berated Gregory for not being smart enough to be the leader of your gang instead of you."

Draco scowled.

"Gregory hinted that we should be looking at the ones who escaped or have been presumed dead. There's a team investigating that. Has Grace been able to tell you anything more about her kidnapper?"

"To be perfectly honest, Harry, we haven't pushed the issue. She's finally beginning to relax and sleep through the night," said Épiphanie. "I'm not sure I want to put her through that."

"I understand, but at this point, she's all we have." Harry ran his fingers through his hair.

"I wonder," said Ron.

"What?"

"Well, George is debuting the new Quidditch Heroes figures today at the shop. What if you took Grace?"

"You mean see if we might draw them out?" Épiphanie asked.

"Are you _mad?"_ Draco shook his head scornfully.

"I dunno. I think it would be a great idea," she declared.

"Épiphanie—"

"No, listen! She'll be with us—that alone will draw stares, if not the press—Harry and Ron and the Aurors will be watching out for anything suspicious." She looked at them for approval. "Come on! She's going stir crazy with only her lessons and a bit of outdoor time each day. What's the worst that could happen?" She turned to him. "Maybe this will get her mind off wanting a kneazle." She cocked a brow.

"Fine!" Draco acquiesced with a sigh.

* * *

Épiphanie's senses were alert the moment they landed behind the Leaky Cauldron. She could see the tension in Draco's shoulders and he held tightly to Grace's hand. He knelt down and took her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes.

"Gracie, I want you to hold tightly to my hand, love. It's very busy on the street today. If you're a good girl, we'll go for ice cream later." He gave her a reassuring smile. She beamed back at him.

"And look at the kneazles?" she pleaded.

Draco looked up at Épiphanie with a derisive smirk. She suppressed a grin.

"I'll make no promises, but _maybe_ we'll look at the _cats._ "

"Yippee!" Grace cheerfully took his hand and skipped along as they walked, chattering happily all the way. Her chaperones scanned the crowds as they made their way to the south end of the street. Épiphanie nodded surreptitiously at Harry as they passed Gringotts.

Draco felt Grace's fingers tighten around his hand as they approached Knockturn Alley, and her light steps faltered. He lifted her into his arms, giving her a peck on the cheek. She wrapped her arms about his neck. Their trek up the street was uneventful and when they entered George's shop, the girl visibly relaxed, dazzled by the numerous colorful displays. She clambered out of Draco's arms and proceeded to pull him from display to display, begging for everything in sight, from a Happy Bubble Box to Umbridge on a Unicycle.

Épiphanie was immediately set upon by young Quidditch fans seeking autographs on their action figures and pictures with the star. She continued to keep one eye on the crowds and her young charge as she smiled and accommodated as many requests as she could. In the end, it was Grace who rescued her from the throng, pushing through even the older children to grab her hand.

"Come _on,_ Épiphanie! Lookit what I'm getting!" She dragged Épiphanie to the counter where Verity was wrapping a number of parcels for Draco. "I got a _flying_ automobile!" she exclaimed. "I got a Quidditch set too, with you, and Draco, and Harry and—"

"Okay, okay, boo! That's awesome! Did you say 'Thank You'?"

"Thank you! Thank you, Draco!" she wrapped her arms around his waist.

They bustled out of the crowded shop and made their way to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour where Grace began to chatter about all of the products in the shop as she ate.

"…and they sell fireworks too! May I have fireworks for my birthday?"

Draco and Épiphanie shared a nervous look. "Um, Grace, sugar, when is your birthday?" Épiphanie asked.

"It's in May. May thirty-first. I'll be _six_ years old! May I have a party with fireworks? And can we have cake and broom rides, and may I have a kneazle too? Please, Father?"

Draco, who had been carefully watching the comings and goings of the witches and wizards in the ice cream parlour, snapped his head around to stare at the little witch with the curly hair, her face sticky with chocolate syrup.

"Did you just call me 'Father'?" he gaped at her.

"Yes," she shrugged, shoveling ice cream into her mouth.

Épiphanie and Draco exchanged another look of astonishment.

"But you have a father, love."

"Yes, but he's in prison. Besides, he doesn't like me. He wanted a boy like Gregory. He says girls aren't useful until they can marry and bring a large bride-price." She looked up at Draco with pitiful eyes. "I wish _you_ could be my father."

"I—well what about Épiphanie? Do you want her to be your mother?" he asked.

"Épiphanie can't be my mummy! Don't be silly!"

"Why not? Don't you like her?"

"Yes, but she can't be my mummy unless you marry her! Everyone knows mummies and daddies _have_ to get married!" she said matter-of-factly. "May I have another sundae?"

Épiphanie and Draco now exchanged looks of amusement.

"Wipe your face, honey." Épiphanie handed her a napkin just as a figure outside the window caught her attention. "Hey, I'll be right back," she said. Draco started to rise, but she waved him off. "Everything's fine, there's just someone I'd like to speak to."

She stepped out of the ice cream shop, moving purposefully towards the witch pushing a pram and looking nervously around.

"Pansy?"

The witch started and, recognizing her, pulled an impatient face. "What do _you_ want?"

"We were just in the ice cream parlour and I saw you. How have you been? Is this the baby?" Épiphanie peered into the carriage. A bright-faced little girl with pink hair smiled up at her and made a peekaboo face. "Oh! She's a metamorphagus! How cute!" Épiphanie exclaimed. "What's her name?"

"Artemisia," said Pansy peevishly. "And I don't see anything _cute_ about her. The little beast has ruined my marriage prospects!"

"What do you mean, Pansy? She's adorable! Hello gorgeous!" Épiphanie continued to bend over the pram and wave at the girl, who giggled and clapped. "Pansy?" Épiphanie looked up when she didn't respond. "Pansy!" she scanned the street, but the child's mother was nowhere in sight.

"Épiphanie, was that Pansy I just saw disapparating?" Draco and Grace walked towards her.

"Disapparating? But she left the baby!"

"What?" Draco looked into the pram as they approached. Suddenly a flash of red bounced off a shield in front of them and Grace screamed. He spun around, pulling her behind him and pointing his wand.

"Go!" Harry yelled, running towards them and firing off a curse in the other direction as startled bystanders ran for cover.

Épiphanie grabbed the toddler from the carriage as Draco grabbed her arm, snatching up Grace and turning on the spot.

* * *

The wails of both girls echoed throughout the hall and Draco frantically paced back and forth. He flung open the French doors of the library when he saw Harry and Ron in the distance, finally striding towards the house. Both girls sat on Épiphanie's lap, arms wrapped about her neck as she tried desperately to comfort them. She gently shushed their cries, and intoning softly that everything would be okay. Épiphanie began to sing softly as she rocked them.

"Kae le Kae le jesu nka ea kae… le kae… Hohle ba… klam pi sam ika ba… lethabo…ha ke na le Jesu nka ea kae le kae…kae le kae…kae le kae…tsabo e seio…ha ke na le Jesu nka ea kae le kae…kae le kae…kae le kae…tsabo e seio… ha ke na le Jesu nka ea kae le kae… ( _Anywhere With Jesus, I can go anywhere…Grace that called me…Which brings joy…When I have Jesus I can go anywhere…_ )"

The girls slowly quieted as she continued to sing softly. Harry and Ron entered the room, and she placed a finger to her lips. They indicated for the Aurors to wait and Draco helped her to carry the girls to the nursery, settling them in bed with stuffed animals and Pippy keeping watch.

"What happened?" Draco demanded as soon as they returned to the library. "Who was it?"

"I never got a good look," said Ron. "As soon as I saw the stunner, and realized that you were both distracted, I threw up a shield."

"The crowd was too dense. I only got a flash of robes as he disapparated," said Harry. "Where did _that_ baby come from?" They all turned to Épiphanie. She pursed her lips and heaved a sigh.

"Pansy."

" _Pansy?_ Pansy Parkinson? Are you serious? Well, where is she?" Ron asked.

"I sure as hell wish I knew!" she shrugged. "One minute, she was complaining about how the child had ruined her marriage prospects, the next she was gone, and Draco was coming towards me saying she had disapparated and then we were under attack. I just grabbed the baby before we disapparated."

"You don't think she could have been involved?" Harry asked. They were all thinking of their classmate's subterfuge in helping Theodore Nott obtain Épiphanie's wand only two years ago.

"And leave her child? No, I can't imagine that she would do such a thing. She seemed genuinely surprised to see me—actually she seemed rather pissed about it, like I was interrupting something."

"Do you think that she intended to abandon the child, and you thwarted her plans?" Ron suggested.

"Look, I really don't give a damn what Pansy was up to, or why she abandoned the girl. Can we try to figure out _who_ attacked us before Épiphanie collects any more foundlings?" Draco snapped. "For Merlin's sake!"

"Draco!" Épiphanie glared at him. He let out a deep sigh.

"Forgive me, Dragonfly. Where do we go from here? Everyone knows we have Grace, and now we have Pansy's daughter as well."

"Well, if Pansy is connected, they'll want the other girl back too. We can go to the family and press them for information on her whereabouts," said Ron. "Perhaps they'll be willing to give her up."

"I just wish we could talk more to Grace to see if she remembers anything. Won't you reconsider it, Épiphanie?"

Épiphanie heaved a sigh. "Harry, I'm sure you've had nightmares about your experiences. How do you think that will affect a five year old? She doesn't even know that both of her parents are dead."

"I understand. What if—no, that wouldn't be right. She's too young, and she would need to consciously give them to us."

"What?" she asked.

"If we could pull her memories, we could look at them through a pensieve. It won't work though. She'd have to know what memories we wanted and willfully give them to us. Plus she doesn't have a wand."

"Well, would it—would it work if I gave them to you?" Épiphanie asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if I try to enter her thoughts and find the memories?"

"She'd know, Épiphanie. She'll fight you on that, and she'd never trust you again," said Harry.

"No, I think there might be a way. If she were asleep, she might only think it's a dream. I'll need help though."

"I don't like it," Draco said.

"It's all we've got left," she said.

"What else can we do?" Harry asked.

* * *

"Whoa!" Harry exclaimed when they entered the nursery the next night.

"Merlin, Draco, you really go all the way, don't you?" Ron declared, looking around at all of the toys, books and fine furniture in the suite. The bedroom had been arranged once again, in order to accommodate a toddler-sized bed for Artemisia, who slept easily, undisturbed by the absence of her mother.

"You have to be _quiet!_ " Grace softly admonished the grownups. She set down her cup of bedtime cocoa. "Artemis is sleeping!" she whispered. "Can she be my sister?"

"I don't know, love. We can talk about that some other time." Draco held out his hand. "Are you ready for bed?"

"Will you sing a song, Épiphanie? Please?"

Épiphanie took the opening and led her to the rocking chair by the fire. Grace curled into her lap and rested her head on her shoulder as they began to rock.

" _Brown skin gal, stay home an' mind da bébé. Brown skin gal, stay home an' mind da bébé. I'm gon' away on a sailin' ship, and if I don' come back, stay home an' mind da bébé_."

"Sing another," Grace yawned. "Please."

" _I see the moon, the moon sees me. The moon sees the one that I want to see... God bless the moon and God bless me, and God bless the one that I want to see… I once had a heart as good as new, but now it's gone from me to you. Take care of it as I have done, for you have two and I have none… I see the moon, the moon sees me. The moon sees the one that I want to see. God bless the moon and God bless me, and God bless the one that I want to see_."

The wizards hung back near the doorway as Épiphanie continued to rock the little girl until her breathing was even. She quietly carried her out of the room and down the corridor to her own bedchamber.

"I don't want to wake the little one," she whispered. Épiphanie quietly climbed into the large bed and lay, holding the girl in her arms. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing to match Grace's.

 _"_ _Mother? What's wrong?" Grace held tightly to Freya as she watched her mother stuff things into her purse. How did mother get that big book into that tiny purse?_

 _"_ _Nothing, sweetheart. I want you to stand right here and wait for me. I'll be back in just a few minutes." Mother ran up the stairs and Grace could hear the sounds of glass breaking and wood splintering as her mother cast spells whose light flashed in the corridor above. After a few minutes, she rushed back down the stairs and grabbed the girl by the hand._

 _"_ _Where are we going, Mother?"_

 _"_ _Don't worry about that now. Just come along, Grace. We have to hurry."_

 _There was knocking at the door. Elvira Goyle shrank back against the wall, pulling the girl towards her, and holding a finger to her lips admonishing her not to make a sound. Grace looked curiously at her mother. The knocking stopped. They carefully tiptoed through the house until they reached the drawing room, which was mess. Her mother waved her wand, and the door swung silently open, then they were hurrying across the grass towards the trees at the edge of the property._

 _Her mother stumbled on the hem of her long robes and Grace dropped Freya. Elvira scrambled to her feet and pulled the girl along before she could pick up her doll._

 _"_ _Freya! Mother, I dropped Freya!" Grace whined._

 _"_ _Leave her darling. Mother will get you a new doll!" her mother kept moving._

 _"_ _No! I want Freya!" Grace pulled away from her mother's grip._

 _"_ _Grace! No!" her mother quietly called out. "We have to go! Come back!"_

 _Grace ran back across the grass. She had to have her only friend. She didn't see the man in the hooded cloak until he was holding her doll._

 _"_ _Hello, Grace. Is this what you were looking for?" She shrank back. He pulled back his hood and smiled. She could hear her mother calling behind her. "I'm a friend of your father's. He needs your help. You can bring your dolly along if you like."_

 _"_ _Get away from her!" her mother snarled, pointing her wand. "She's just a child! I won't let you use her!"_

 _"_ _Then join us. The Servants will carry out the mission of The Dark Lord. We will be victorious, and the child is the key!"_

 _"_ _I have never supported The Dark Lord, and I'll never support you! Grace, come here now!"_

 _Grace reached out for Freya, but the man held the doll firmly. She turned to tug her doll away, and he grabbed her wrist painfully, pulling her to him as he flicked his wand in her mother's direction. There was a blinding green flash, and they disapparated._

Épiphanie thrashed about the bed whimpering. Draco took a step forward, but Ron grabbed his arm.

"She's fine. This is Grace's memory. Let it play out."

"But—"

"I know. Do you have any idea how many times I watched Harry go through this?"

Draco looked to Harry, whose face was red. He was aware that Ron and Hermione had both shared in helping him to overcome Voldemort's invasions to his psyche. They watched uncomfortably, curious as to the way Grace lay, peacefully curled into her side.

 _"_ _I want to go home! When is Mother coming to get me?" Grace whined. She crouched in the corner._

 _"_ _You can go home as soon as we're finished," the man said. He turned away from her and joined two others at the table._

 _"_ _I told you not to come here! The lot of ye, need to clear out!" said the old man._

 _"_ _Borgin! I paid you well, and you'll keep your end of the bargain!"_

 _"_ _Ha! A pittance compared to what Malfoy used to bring! There is no more Dark Lord, and I'll not be manipulated again, Crabbe!"_

 _"_ _My boy must be avenged, Borgin! That filthy blood-traitor, Potter ruined it all, and set Malfoy free to boot!"_

 _"_ _Never should have trusted him. What was he thinking? Now my son is rotting in that godforsaken Azkaban!" said the other wizard._

 _"_ _It's your own fault for allowing him to go back to Hogwarts, Nott!" Crabbe spat._

 _Grace quietly edged along the wall and crawled from the room. The men didn't seem to notice her absence as they argued. She crept down the stairs and into the gloomy shop below. There were lots of scary objects on the shelves and she kept well away from them. She carefully turned the doorknob, looking over her shoulder as she pulled open the door, but she didn't notice the bell hanging by the door. The clang sounded like a gong in her ears and she ran out onto the shadowy street. Grace kept running until she saw light up ahead. The bright midday sun blinded her momentarily and she shrank back into the shadows when she saw the crowds of people in the street._

Please don't let them see me! Please don't let them see me! Please don't see me! I don't want to go back!

 _But someone did see her._

" _Accio wand!_ " Épiphanie reached out her hand, gripping her wand tightly when it zoomed from the side table. She touched it to her temple with a shaking hand. As she moved the wand away, a thin, silvery wisp emerged and floated from it. Harry rushed forward with a small phial and collected the memory, pressing a stopper into it.

Épiphanie dropped her hand, wearily, her wand slipping through her fingers. Draco rushed to her, taking her into his arms.

"Are you alright, Ma Zirondelle?"

"Yes, yeah. I just—" she placed her hand over her eyes. "My head hurts. I've never taken in memories before. It's not the same as reading or simply being in someone's thoughts." She looked over at Grace. "How did she do?"

"Slept right through it," Harry said. "We'll take this and see if we recognize anyone. Thanks, Épiphanie. I know how hard that was. You should try to get some rest if you can. She may wake up and be very aware of what you did."

"Let's hope that she isn't. I would hate to lose her trust."

"We should go." He and Ron turned to leave.

"Harry." Her voice was uneasy as she spoke. He turned back to her. "They're after you."

"They're always after me," he replied with a shrug and gave her a rueful smile. "What do they want, revenge?"

"Against you…and Draco." She squeezed his hand weakly. "They paid a man named Borgin to help them. They want to avenge their sons."

"Me? Why? Who?" Draco looked from her to Harry.

"A man named Crabbe, and one named…Nott," she said with a shudder. The other wizards gasped. "They say they're The Servants."


	19. Correction

"Hey, morning, Neville," said Épiphanie, as she poured her coffee. "Join us for breakfast? There's plenty."

"Good to see you, love." Neville kissed the top of her head before taking a seat at the table. "I've already eaten, but I'll take a cuppa. Good morning, little ones!"

"Who are you?" Grace asked.

"My name is Neville Longbottom. Who are you?" he smiled.

"I'm Grace, and this is Artemis." The girl gestured to the toddler in the high chair at Épiphanie's side who giggled and sipped juice from a two-handled silver cup engraved with a dragon.

" _Artemisia_ ," Épiphanie corrected. She took the cup from the girl and handed her a spoon, setting a porringer filled with oatmeal in front of her. "Eat some, sugar."

"What brings you by, my friend?" Draco asked, stirring sugar and cream into his tea.

Neville gave him a slight smile. "Nothing special. I found my schedule open this morning, and thought you might have time to honor that little matter we discussed." Draco blanched at his statement, and Épiphanie gave him a look.

"What matter?" she asked.

"I erm—I owe Neville for a few—erm—favors, that's all. Nothing to trouble yourself with, beloved." Draco turned to Grace. "Are you excited for your lessons with Épiphanie today?"

"Oh, yes! We're practicing ballet!" she cheerfully explained to Neville.

"Oh, my! Well, I hope you'll invite me to your recital!" Neville smiled indulgently. She nodded enthusiastically.

"Won't you excuse us, ladies?" Draco stood and Neville followed suit. Épiphanie tilted her face up, and Draco brushed his lips across hers. Neville caressed her cheek as he passed, and the two wizards left the dining hall.

* * *

"Draco, you know that we must address this," said Neville, as they stood face to face in the secret chamber beyond Brutus Malfoy's suite a short while later.

"Yes, I understand, sir."

"You deceived Épiphanie, and you failed to give her what she needed for informed consent. A good dominant must be inclined not only to take control, but to serve—and serve willingly. You placed your desires above her protection."

"I did." Draco trained his eyes on the floor.

"Tell me about New Orleans," Neville said. Draco cleared his throat.

"I—I must admit, I'm not particularly clear on that. At some point, Dean and Seamus and Épiphanie and I began to drink. We were talking about her and Hannah, and then there was something about Seamus never having been with a woman. I think I suggested he should try it on with Épiphanie. The next thing I remember is waking up to them freaking out and screaming blue murder at everyone."

"A Dominant's first duty is to protect that which belongs to him, Draco. Anything less is unacceptable." Neville began to unbutton Draco's shirt as he spoke.

"You are correct. I acted irresponsibly." His pulse quickened as Neville's fingers brushed over his skin. His cheeks flushed with the nearness of the other blond wizard and goosebumps prickled his skin. Neville slowly removed his shirt and cast it aside.

"On your knees."

Draco knelt and placed his hands behind his head. Neville continued to stand quietly in front of him, which left Draco eye-level with his crotch. A surprising thrill shot through him and his breath hitched. He licked his lips and closed his eyes.

Draco shuddered as Neville's fingers slid up the back of his neck and he fisted his pale hair, pulling his head backwards. "I'm disappointed in you, Draco," Neville whispered in his ear. "Your behavior must be corrected." He released Draco's hair and stepped back.

" _Ipsam Carnem!"_

"Sssss!" Draco gritted his teeth as his flesh roared to life, the curse lashing his back.

" _Ipsam Carnem Punire!"_ Neville's voice was cold as he flicked his wand again, casting a curse that burned through Draco like fire and left a lash from his shoulder to his waist.

"Fucking Salazar!" Draco cried out.

"From here on out, you will be more responsible with that which belongs to you," said Neville.

"Yes! Yes!" Draco panted.

"Excellent." _Ipsam Carnem!_

Neville cursed Draco again and again, until his back was striped red and angry and he struggled to keep his hands in place behind his head.

"Stand up."

Draco's knees protested after kneeling on the hard floor, but he relished the discomfort as he got to his feet. Neville was again standing close to him. Draco could feel his body heat radiating from him. He inhaled deeply and took in the other man's scent. He smelled of freshly turned earth and—was that lemons?

"Look at me, Draco." Neville had his hands on his face now, and Draco struggled to focus. He wanted to melt into the touch, and felt his prick come to life, nudging against his trousers. He blinked several times.

"Y-yes?"

"She loves you very much, and she trusts you even more. Do not allow this to destroy that." Neville gave him a pointed look. Draco nodded. "Good." He patted his cheek and drew back, but Draco grabbed his wrist. Neville looked at him curiously.

"I—" Draco faltered. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. He held Neville's gaze for what felt like an eternity, his fingers still trapping the other's wrist. Finally, he brought Neville's fingers to his lips and kissed them lightly. He looked up at him nervously. Neville's face was impassive, but he did not move. Draco tightened his grip on his hand and closed the brief space between them. He brushed his lips over Neville's.

"What are you doing?" Neville whispered.

"I don't know," Draco replied. He lowered his eyes and leaned back. "I'm—"

Before he could finish, Neville had grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss, crushing their lips together. He fisted Draco's hair as he nipped and bit his lip, then slid his tongue into the Slytherin's mouth until he let out a soft sigh.

"Happy now?" Neville asked with a smirk. He summoned Draco's shirt and handed it to him.

* * *

Hermione stood at the gate and stared at the imposing residence. She took several deep breaths, willing the shaking in her hands to stop.

"It's over. She's dead. It's over. She's dead. These are my friends. These are my friends. It's over. She's dead." She exhaled slowly, repeating the mantra, and drew her wand, tapping it to the coat of arms at the center of the gate.

"State your name and business," came a brusque voice.

"Hermione Granger, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Wizengamot Appointed Youth Liaison. Mr. Malfoy is expecting me."

The iron portal silently swung open and she started up the long drive, repeating the mantra as she rubbed the now pale scar on her forearm.

She could hear dogs barking in the distance and a fountain bubbled nearby. The massive double doors opened as she approached, and Hermione was surprised to find Neville standing in the foyer with Draco. They didn't appear to have noticed her, and were deep in conversation.

* * *

"I don't know what came over me," Draco said as they stood in the foyer. He moved carefully, his skin crying out with each gentle brush of fabric against it. He flicked his wand to open the grand doors, and held Neville's traveling cloak for him to slip into it. "I just—"

"Think nothing of it," Neville replied, turning to him.

"But—" Draco began. Neville took his hands and leveled a soft gaze at him.

"Draco, I was aware of your desire and arousal that very first time, in the Room of Requirement. I figured it was just the natural response of pleasure and pain. I'm not blind though. You like my touch."

"But I know you're not bent and—"

"I know that I, too, like your touch, Draco…And I like touching you." He fixed Draco with a penetrating stare before he winked, squeezing his hands. Draco gave him a slight bow. He smiled. "You have company."

Draco was startled to see Hermione approaching the house. He broke their connection, and Neville turned to her with a warm smile.

"Hermione! Good to see you!" Neville exclaimed. He took her hands and gave her a light peck on the cheek.

"Hello, Neville! I'm here to meet with Draco and Épiphanie concerning their young charges."

"Oh, yes! It appears that Malfoy Manor is fast becoming a refuge for magical foundlings!" Neville beamed at Draco, who appeared a bit uncomfortable. The Slytherin gave a stiff smile. "Well, I'll leave you to it. My next class begins in half an hour. Good to see you, love. Draco."

Draco inclined his head, and Neville marched out the door and down the lane between the hedgerows.

Hermione and Draco stood in silence for a few seconds. She could feel her heart beating in her chest as she stared at the double doors beyond the grand staircase. Finally Draco cleared his throat, and she nearly leapt out of her skin.

"Hermione, you needn't have come here. I understand your apprehension. We might have met at your office, or someplace else suitable."

"No, no. I'll be okay." She licked her lips. "I can't simply avoid situations because they dredge up painful memories. If Harry and Ron can do it, so can I."

"I understand. Honestly, it was difficult for me to return here after Lucius died. Even Mother has chosen to move away, but I have attempted to make changes, so that if I can't entirely erase the painful memories, they are a bit less…raw."

"That makes sense." She smiled with more conviction this time.

"Pippy!" he called out. The elf appeared and bowed low.

"Yes, Master Draco?" she squeaked. Hermione pursed her lips, but said nothing about the elf.

"Would you please lay a table for tea in the nursery?"

"Right away, Master Draco! Shall I make coffee for Mistress Épiphanie?"

"Yes, thank you," Draco replied. The elf tilted her head curiously, still uncomfortable with being shown courtesy, before bowing again and disappearing with a snap of her fingers. Hermione was unable to hide her astonishment.

"As I said, I am making changes. I believe the girls should be just about finished with their lessons."

Hermione thought that Draco moved a bit stiffly as he led her up the stairs to the third floor. She heard music as they turned down the corridor. He pushed open a door near the end of the hall and they stepped into a sun-filled dance studio. Épiphanie, Grace and Artemisia all stood before a pristine mirror wearing black leotards and dance shoes. The little girls were dutifully copying Épiphanie's moves in the mirror as she taught them ballet positions. Grace's moves were smooth and elegant, revealing that the child had been receiving training for some time. Naturally, the two-year-old, her hair in a bright blue bun was awkward, but she seemed to be catching on quickly.

"…and now second position…six, seven, eight…and third…two, three, four…Oh, Hermione! I'm sorry! I didn't realize what time it was!" Épiphanie exclaimed when she caught sight of them in the mirror behind her. She waved her hand and the music stopped. She summoned towels from where they hung on the barre and dabbed at her neck with one, handing the others to the girls.

"We dancing!" Artemisia exclaimed. She toddled up to Draco and raised her hands, indicating that she wanted to be picked up. He scooped the girl into his arms and tweaked her nose.

"You certainly are!" he exclaimed. Not to be left out, Grace took his hand.

"Will you dance with me?"

"Perhaps after Épiphanie and I meet with Miss Granger, while Artemisia has her nap. Have you practiced your mazurka?"

"Oh, yes! I like that one!"

They made their way to the nursery in the east wing, and Hermione reacted in much the same way as the others had upon first entering. Pippy had laid the children's table with milk and biscuits and prepared a more comfortable table for the adults, with tea, coffee and scones. They spoke in hushed voices, aware that the children were only a few feet away.

"Did Crabbe have anything to say about Pansy or the girl?" asked Épiphanie. She stirred a bit of sugar into her café au lait.

"Nothing more than he'd already revealed in his initial interrogation after they were arrested. He denied that his son had fathered the child. Actually called Pansy a whore and said there was no way that he would acknowledge, and I'm quoting him 'a little beast like that'!" A look of revulsion crossed Hermione's face as she repeated the man's words. "Any luck with the Parkinsons?"

"Ugh!" Draco rolled his eyes. "It was all I could do not to hex Silas Parkinson into the next century! The man had the nerve to imply that it was _my_ fault for refusing to marry Pansy! He said he didn't know where she was, and as she had disgraced herself, he didn't care. She and the child are dead to them." His hand trembled a bit as he lifted his teacup. Hermione couldn't stop herself raising a brow, and he noticed, setting the cup down with a somewhat indelicate clatter.

"My God!" Épiphanie exclaimed. "Well, what happens now?"

Hermione opened a thick folder and shuffled a number of parchments. "Well, that's entirely up to you. You may continue to act as the girls' guardians, but it will have to be made official. Both girls present certain obstacles to placement with families by The Ministry. As I said before, the orphans of Death Eaters are typically shunned. That would be a definite problem for Grace. When you add that she is a legilimens, that would make it even harder. We don't know if she has as yet developed her skill, but you all know how people feel about that." Épiphanie nodded regrettably. "As for Artemisia, although the Parkinsons weren't Death Eaters, some do hold a certain disdain for metamorphagi. They consider them untrustworthy and don't want the responsibility of keeping up with a child whose appearance can change so easily as it grows." She looked back at the children, who chattered happily to one another and their dolls.

"People just don't understand what war and prejudice do to children," Épiphanie stated flatly. "It's not right."

"Um, Épiphanie, I know it's personal, but what do your parents have to say about all this?"

"Well, Papa isn't exactly over the moon about it, but he understands the impulse to protect the children. Maman isn't feeling it at all. She is a devout Catholic and 'shacking up, playing house' is absolutely unacceptable behavior for an eighteen-year-old, regardless of what wizarding society has to say about being of age. She was already bothered about the situation with Grace, now there's _two_ children. She's just this side of livid. The press haven't made the situation any better."

"And that's something you both have to take into consideration. It might be a better impression on The Ministry if you were to apply for guardianship alone. As a witch—and the daughter of The Minister—it would be considered philanthropic, though they may still be reluctant, due to the fact that you are single. Draco, you certainly have the means to provide for the girls, and Goyle has said that he will agree to your guardianship of Grace, but there are so few single wizards bringing up children that aren't biologically theirs. The Ministry might attempt to bring up your past."

"And if we chose to bring application together?" Draco asked.

"You could do that. Again, the committee will be skeptical. There's still Draco's wartime record to consider. They'll want to make every attempt to find Pansy, and give her a chance to claim or give up her parental rights. You aren't married. The press will have a field day."

Draco looked at Épiphanie, then over at the girls. He'd never considered that his life would have come to this. He'd previously only considered fatherhood an obligation of producing an heir. Lucius certainly took to the role as such. He could be cruel and heartless, wasn't affectionate, and only showed pride in his son when his actions reflected well on the family name. Draco had not known real affection and emotional love until these three witches had come into his life. He couldn't explain the emotions that welled inside of him at the sight of Épiphanie rocking the girls in the flickering light of the fireplace, the way that Grace and Artemisia gave him genuine looks of unconditional love when they ran into his arms. He kept replaying the scene in Fortescue's when Grace had called him "Father." Draco hadn't found the courage to ask Épiphanie to marry him, but the idea was ever in the forefront of his mind of late.

"I know this is a lot to consider. In the meantime, now that the threat is past, we can officially make an emergency placement. This lasts for two months. If Pansy doesn't return or respond to any owls by the end of that term, we can move forward with an official case of child abandonment and you'll have had the opportunity to contemplate whether either or both of you wish to proceed to adoption." Hermione was scribbling furiously on a parchment as she spoke. She passed the parchment to them for their signatures.

* * *

"Thanks for all of your help, Hermione." Épiphanie walked with her between the tall hedgerows towards the gate when their meeting was done.

"It's no problem. They're only children. It's nice to see someone caring for them."

"Well, I've unfortunately grown up seeing too much of the horrible things that people can do to children. I want to be a positive light in that darkness if I can. Just once. And there's something about seeing Draco be so demonstrative and open with them. He drops all pretense of his aristocratic airs. It seems like he's living a life that he always wanted. Who would have thought that he'd take to children like that?"

Hermione laughed lightly. "Certainly not _me!_ " She paused. "Épiphanie, is Draco well? He seemed a bit out of sorts."

Épiphanie shrugged. "He's fine, I'm sure. Maybe a little nervous about meeting with you. I know that there's a history here. I can appreciate how difficult it must have been for you to come." She laid a hand on Hermione's arm, and the Gryffindor stiffened. Épiphanie knew what lay beneath her sleeve without seeing it. She maintained her grip and met Hermione's gaze.

Hermione gave Épiphanie a startled look when she touched her arm, but suddenly a feeling of supreme lightness seemed to fill her, pushing away the lingering heartache and the phantom pain that always seemed to be present there. She looked at the dark-skinned witch anew, and felt herself smiling as a tear escaped her eye.

* * *

"Hey." Ron was sitting on the bottom stair when Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place.

"What are you doing here? Where's Harry? Is everything okay?" She dropped her heavy satchel, careful not to upend the umbrella stand and disturb Mrs. Black.

"Harry's fine. I left work early to wait for you." He stood and pulled her into an embrace, gently stroking her back.

"You didn't have to do that," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"Of course I did. You haven't been back to that place since—" he broke off.

"But I'm okay, Ron. Really. It was—cathartic."

"Really?"

"Yes. I mean, when I arrived, I was anxious. I had to work up the nerve to even enter the gates, but Draco and Épiphanie were very understanding about it. When I left, Épiphanie—I don't know exactly how to explain it. Ron, she's just so amazingly powerful!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's scary."

"What do you mean? What did she do?" He pulled back and looked down at Hermione, his eyes full of concern.

"I—well, we were walking up the drive to the gates, and Épiphanie just— _touched_ me—there. I've never shown it to her. I didn't think she knew anything about it, but when she did that, I suddenly just—it was like this weight lifted away from me. All she did was just touch my arm and she looked at me like she knew everything that I had experienced, everything that I've just been holding onto—all of the nightmares, the phantom pains, and the guilt. It—it doesn't even hurt any more. I don't know how she does it! I've never read about anything like it. What's more, it just continues to challenge all of the notions we ever had about what Slytherins are supposed to be."

"But do you remember what Dumbledore said about her wand, yeah? She has much in common with Hermes, the original wielder of the caduceus—including healing arts and mediator of the unconscious. She's—if you had been there when she captured those memories from Grace—the child never woke, never cried out, nothing—but the way Épiphanie responded, it was like she was living it for her. I always wondered about that connection between Harry and Voldemort. Harry felt it so viscerally. I wonder how Riddle experienced it."

"I think I'm happier not knowing," Hermione said with a grimace.

"You're right." Ron kissed her forehead. "I think I heard the floo. Why don't we see what Harry and Ginny would like to do for dinner?"

"Whoever would have thought that Crabbe and Pugsley Pansy Parkinson could make such an adorable child!" exclaimed Ron. Hermione kicked him under the table. Harry snickered. Ginny pinched him.

"So, did they say what they want to do?" Ginny asked.

Hermione recounted her meeting with Draco and Épiphanie to Harry, Ginny and Ron over dinner. The foursome lingered at the table, indulging in a chocolate cake that Kreacher had baked.

"I think Draco is very keen to keep the girls. You should see the way he is with them—and that _nursery_ —Ginny, you should _see_ it!"

"You could probably fit the entire Gryffindor common room in there and still have space leftover," said Ron.

"It's like the toy department at Selfridges! There were tea sets, books, games, dolls, clothes of all sorts, Ginny! He's even hung a swing in the garden. And there's a library with a chalkboard for elementary tuition, and he's provided a dance studio on the west wing of the floor where Épiphanie is teaching them ballet and social dances," she added.

"I would never have believed him to have a fatherly bone in his body if I hadn't seen it for myself. George said he dropped a small fortune in the shop when they were in that day, and he's already sent him an owl requesting a quote on fireworks for Grace's birthday in May," said Ron.

"She'll probably get that kneazle too," Harry added.

"A _kneazle?_ " Ginny looked at him curiously.

"Oh, she's on about wanting a kneazle. Épiphanie thought going to George's shop would take her mind off of that, but when we got to Diagon Alley, she was still trying to get him to take her to Magical Menagerie to buy one. As unfortunate as it all was, I think the attack spared him from making that stop." Harry licked frosting from his fork. "Still, I believe she'll wear him down before too long."

"Speaking of being worn down, there was one thing that I found rather curious. Draco seemed awfully out of sorts while I was there. He tried to hide it, but something was off," said Hermione.

"How so?"

"Well, when I arrived, Neville was there, and—"

"Neville? Why would Neville be at Malfoy Manor in the middle of the week—in the middle of the day?" asked Harry.

"He didn't say, but the door was open when I approached the house. Draco looked a bit bothered that I had arrived at that moment."

"I'm telling you, something dodgy is going on with them!" Ron declared. "It just doesn't make sense. Malfoy _tortured_ Neville all through school, and now they're best mates? Holding hands at the hospital, and always huddled up whispering they are."

"C'mon, Ron! You really should give it a rest," said Ginny.

"I dunno, Ginny. Their behavior was a little peculiar. The door was open when I arrived and Draco was helping Neville into his traveling cloak—"

"What?"

"And they shared this look. It was like—intimate."

"Intimate? Are you sure of what you saw, Hermione?" Harry's voice was skeptical. "Did Neville say anything?"

"Very sure. But Neville acted as if nothing special had happened. He greeted me and said that he had to get back to the castle for his next class."

"But what does that have to do with Draco being out of sorts?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know. Like I said, he seemed a bit put out that I arrived when I did. He also appeared to be in physical pain. He tried to hide it, but he moved so stiffly. He winced when he picked up Artemisia, and his hand shook visibly when he took up his teacup. Draco prides himself on his gracefulness. He would never be so clumsy or allow anyone to see him in pain—unless it was to his advantage to do so. Think about it. Even after hours on a broom searching for a snitch, he always manages to look unruffled."

"Did you ask Épiphanie if anything was wrong?"

"I did, but she put it off to him being nervous about my return to The Manor after all that happened, and worrying about the girls."

"Well, there you go," said Harry. "I think we're just so used to painting Draco in a particular light, that we find everything he does to be a calculated move. He's made a particular effort to make amends with us all, and maybe it's the same for Neville. Perhaps they've found a common ground that they didn't know existed. Épiphanie told me that he returned Neville's remembrall."

" _Draco_ had it all this time? I thought you'd lost it!" Ron exclaimed. "When did he do that?"

"The evening we were all at Seamus and Dean's club. Apparently, Neville, Hannah, Seamus and Dean all joined them at Antares Hall after they dropped us off. That's what Épiphanie said."

"When did she tell you all this?" Hermione asked.

"The same day we rescued Grace. When we were at Hogwarts, Neville gave her some kind of parcel to give to Draco. She also said that Neville and Draco had become very close during that period when they broke up, and Draco was bingeing on Draught of Peace. Apparently, Neville is the one responsible for helping him to stop being dependent on it."

"All that may be well and good, but I still don't see how that translates to Draco being perfectly fine with Neville and Épiphanie being so cozy," said Ron. "You didn't see what I saw."

"Well, in the absence of evidence, I say it's none of our business," said Ginny.

"As do I," said Harry. Hermione and Ron just shrugged helplessly and decided it was best to let the matter drop.


	20. Parental Guidance Suggested

Épiphanie stood at the foot of the bed and carefully applied Essence of Dittany to the stripes on Draco's bare back and as each mark healed and faded, she gently kneaded the skin, rubbing warm coconut oil into his flesh.

"Mmmm…" he murmured into the mattress.

"Why did Neville punish you, Draco? I thought your submission to him was a one-time thing." She slid her oil-slicked palms along his back from his shoulders to his waist, her fingers lingering at the waistband of his trousers. Draco slipped his hands under her skirt, wrapping his hands around her thighs, and slid them up to grip her ass as she bent over him. "Draco?"

"Neville is my mentor, love. He taught me to be a dominant—how to bring out pleasure through pain and stimulation. He told you on that first night that a dominant's first duty is to protect that which belongs to him. When he asked if I had explained to you about the flowers, I told him that I had not. You have to understand everything that I do in order to properly choose whether or not to consent. I didn't ensure that. He was disappointed that I had not heeded his guidance."

"I hardly think that you not explaining the full purpose and meaning of the flowers would warrant a beating though." She moved her hands back up his back, dragging her fingernails over his flesh.

"When we talked about it, I also confessed that I had deceived you and not asked your permission the first time I bound you. I had you in a heightened state of arousal and coerced your consent."

Épiphanie paused and stiffened. "You told him about the—"

"No, love, I didn't tell him about the spell. He would have murdered me. Still, my error in judgement warranted correction. My actions reflect upon him as a mentor and Dungeon Master. It's all to remind me how precious you are and how important it is to protect you. He was also a little pissed about what happened with you and Seamus on our last trip to New Orleans. He said we still shouldn't have been drinking—despite the fact that we weren't actually playing any longer. It compromised your ability—and Seamus'—to properly consent." He rolled onto his back and reached up to snag a finger under her collar, pulling her down to kiss her.

"You're ruining my duvet," she said between kisses.

"If Tickety can't fix it, I'll buy you another one," he murmured, kissing her again and pulling her into the bed beside him.

"Maybe I'll want a kneazle instead," she smiled impishly.

"Cheeky witch!" He rolled on top of her and began to tickle her. She laughed and writhed underneath him, until he suddenly found himself hovering a few feet above her. "Wha—"

"Oh, damn!" she exclaimed, giggling in astonishment. "How did I do _that?_ _Descendo!_ " She rolled away as he fell, and he landed on the bed with a bounce. She giggled.

"Merlin, woman!" he declared. "Sometimes your powers really are frightening."

Épiphanie had opened her mouth to reply when they heard a crash followed by an ear-splitting wail echoing down the hall. They scrambled to their feet, wands in hand, and raced to the source of the disturbance. They threw open the door of the nursery to find Artemisia sitting on the floor howling as Grace cried, tugging on Pippy's arm while the elf repeatedly slammed her head into the bookcase causing the books and several precious figurines to smash to the floor around them.

"Pippy! Please don't! I'm sorry!" Grace sobbed. "I didn't _mean_ it!"

"What in Merlin's name! Pippy! Stop it at once!" Draco yelled. "What is the meaning of this!" The elf collapsed dizzily onto the floor and Grace shrank away from Draco's ire. Épiphanie went to Artemisia and scooped the toddler into her arms.

"I'm—I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say I didn't like the biscuits!" Grace sobbed.

"Pippy has displeased Miss Grace!" the elf pronounced and threw herself at Draco's feet. "I have dishonored Master Draco!" She made to pound her head on the floor, when Draco snatched her up.

"Pippy! You are _not_ to punish yourself!" he snapped. "You've frightened the children!" The house elf shuddered from the effort not to continue her self-flagellation and he released her. Draco crouched as he pinched the bridge of his nose and gathered Grace into his arms, taking a breath before he spoke again. "What happened?" he asked, his voice calmer now.

"I'm s-sorry! Pippy made shortbread for tea, and I said they were yucky because I wanted cookies! I didn't mean to make her _hurt_ herself! And—and then the books fell off the shelf and scared Artemis! I'm sorry!"

"Oh, my darling!" Draco hugged the girl tightly. "You must be very careful how you speak to Pippy and the other elves. If they feel that they have displeased or upset you in some way, they will punish themselves. They can't help it, it's in their nature. However, Pippy works hard to prepare tea and nibbles for you. It was naughty of you to be ungrateful."

"I'm sorry, Pippy!" Grace mumbled. Draco hugged her again and turned to the house elf, who cowered in the corner.

"Pippy, the children are unused to such displays. You are _not_ to punish yourself in front of them ever again, do you understand?"

"Yes, Master Draco. Pippy apologizes for her misdeeds and is not meaning to frighten the children," she whimpered.

"Good. Now, please clean up this mess, and when you are done, I want you to stay in your quarters for the rest of the evening—and _don't_ punish yourself further. You may return to work tomorrow." He looked at the anxious expressions of his beloved witches. "What do you say we spend the rest of the evening in the city?"

They got dressed in muggle clothing and Épiphanie cast a sticking charm on the colorful floppy hat that covered Artemisia's hair after she had removed it several times. They apparated to Antares Hall and after conjuring a pushchair for the toddler, set off for the city. The children were delighted by the London Eye, after which they visited the cinema for an animated movie about American schoolkids who foil a plot to change the moon's orbit and create a permanent winter so that children will never have a school vacation. The humor was a bit lost on Draco, but the children enjoyed the film and Grace happily peppered them with questions about how muggles made the big pictures move without magic as they sat in a contemporary Italian restaurant a few blocks from The Boltons, feasting on gourmet pizza.

* * *

"About Pippy," Épiphanie said as they walked back to Antares Hall. She pushed Artemisia as Draco carried a drowsy Grace.

"Yes? I get the impression from your reaction that you've never seen a house elf punish itself," he said.

"No. It's freakin' appalling! But what I was curious about was that you remanded her to her quarters. Isn't that more punishment?"

"Yes, love, but it was the only thing I could think of to keep her from hurting herself more and to give her the opportunity to rest and heal a bit. I'm sure you understand now that it's in their nature to do self-harm and to work. I hoped that being prevented from working for the rest of the day would serve as punishment enough to stop her hurting herself."

They put the children to bed when they returned to the house and settled before the fire in the drawing room. When he summoned his hookah, Épiphanie gave him a surprised look of reproach.

"It's only mu'assel, not cannabis, love. I promise. Besides, I haven't taken any potions or drinks. I got it from Mahmoud Shafiq, the reserve Seeker. He'd heard from Neville that I enjoyed the occasional shisha and presented me with a gift of this when he received his contract." Draco flicked his wand and lit the coals. He handed her a pipe and she took a pull, taking in a sweet and pungent apple flavor. She pulled a face of appreciation and rested her head on his shoulder as they smoked in companionable silence.

"You really hope that she won't return?" Épiphanie asked.

"What?"

"You were thinking that you would be happy if Pansy doesn't return to claim Artemisia. You want to adopt the girls?" She sat up and looked at him.

"I—yes, I suppose I do." He sighed. "Épiphanie, I—my mother has always been devoted to me, but ours was never an affectionate family. I'm certain it doesn't take much imagination to envisage the type of parent that Lucius was. I spent much of my childhood alone. Lavish gifts and a well-stocked nursery are a feeble replacement for attention and loving embraces, lullabies and bedtime stories. I—I don't understand why that was so difficult for my parents. I look at Grace and Artemisia, and I just melt. The feeling that overcame me when Grace called me 'Father' was like nothing I've ever experienced." He paused and let out a chuckle. "We should probably insist she calls Artemisia by her proper name, but I rather like Artemis. It fits the Black family tradition of giving children Astrological names. Of course, I can't _imagine_ all of the fuss of raising girls—there is etiquette and deportment, dowry—"

Épiphanie laughed out loud. "Are you serious? A dowry? And you'll arrange their marriages too?"

"I should think it important to ensure their place in society, my love. However, I suppose that I would consider a love match, assuming the wizard is reputable and suitably able to provide for them in a manner to which they are accustomed."

"Really? Because there are _so_ many upstanding wizards whose wealth can compare to the Malfoys." Épiphanie rolled her eyes, but she softened her gaze upon seeing his expression. "You really love them."

"Do you not?"

"I've become attached, yes. It seems inexplicable. I'm only eighteen. In America, we're just finishing school at this age, and girls who already have children are frowned upon. I wouldn't have been thinking about parenthood for another four or five years, once I'd completed college. Here I am falling into this like it's a natural progression."

"You're a witch, Dragonfly. Your magical maturity is different. It's why your mother is having such difficulty with the situation. She's a muggle, and was raised with a different set of standards. Your father, I would imagine, is disconcerted more because you're doing all of this with _me,_ than because he isn't prepared for you to be of age and starting a family."

"That makes sense." She settled back against his chest and stared into the waning fire. She felt Draco sigh heavily. "Speak freely, mon furet," she whispered.

"I want to have the type of family that I never really had, Épiphanie. I want them to be Grace and Artemis Malfoy. I want to be their father."

* * *

Andromeda Tonks sat on a bench beside Molly Weasley, beneath a tree festooned with colorful decorations in the garden outside The Burrow. It was Teddy's birthday, and they watched the mesmerized children as Draco conjured puppets to act out the story of _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_.

"If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it!" Molly exclaimed.

"Our Draco—entertaining small children! He certainly never inherited that trait from Lucius—or Cissy. It's that girl. She's had such an impact on him. I understand that she is quite charismatic."

"Épiphanie is definitely a singularly gifted witch. She's a lovely girl, and he's quite smitten!" Molly concurred.

"Indeed! I am surprised that The Minister hasn't insisted on a formal betrothal. The press has positively had a field day making scandal of their every move and misadventure."

"I daresay the coverage of their relationship has surpassed their reporting on Harry's doings. Although I am gratified that reporters have stopped hounding Ginevra and speculating on the nature and progress of her relationship with Harry. _There's_ a betrothal I would be happy to see at last."

"Ah, Molly. You know that young love is complicated. Think of the pressure to comply with the wishes of your parents. The desire to follow your heart, and the promise of a happily-ever-after." She sighed wistfully.

"My only hope is that these little ones grow up to appreciate the sacrifices that ours have made in order to experience their happily-ever-after. They deserve it."

"That they do, Molly. That they do."


	21. Offensus Infidelitatum

Épiphanie methodically rinsed the shampoo from her hair, combing her fingers through her long curls to prevent it tangling too much before she could braid it again. The Dragons had just been defeated by the Holyhead Harpies for the British and Irish Quidditch League Cup, with a last-minute interception by Ginny Weasley and a hail-Mary goal that gave the Harpies just enough points to prevent Draco's captured snitch from taking the victory. She was disappointed that their first Cup final ended in defeat, but as she showered, she contemplated giving Ginny a gift to celebrate her friend's first big professional victory. In the meantime, she planned to spend the evening with Draco, licking their wounds without the interference of young children, as Andromeda had invited the girls to spend the night with Teddy, who was excited to have a metamorphagus playmate in Artemis—they'd given in to Grace's insistence on changing the girl's name. They would meet them the next day at Hogwarts for the Spring Fête where they would also celebrate the birthday of Bill and Fleur's daughter, Victoire.

She shut off the spray and squeezed the excess water from her thick hair when she heard a movement in the dressing room.

"Forget your wand again, Hester?" she called out. The reserve keeper was known to leave her wand behind on a regular basis. "Florence? Is that you?" Épiphanie called out after the only other witch on the team, a reserve chaser they'd recruited from Beauxbatons. When there was still no response, she reached for her wand.

 _Expelliarmus!_

"What the—"

 _Carpe Retractum!_

Épiphanie let out a scream as the curtain was snatched open unceremoniously and she was magically dragged naked from the shower. The curse she was about to utter died on her lips when she caught sight of Draco holding her wand as Neville pulled her across the dressing room floor.

"Hello, love!" Neville smiled, pulling her to her feet, and against him despite the fact that water was still dripping from her body.

"What's going on?" She leaned slightly away from Neville, looking nervously from him to Draco.

"If you will oblige me, dear, I have requested of Draco the opportunity to perhaps help allay any dispirited mood you might have, following the loss of the Cup you so valiantly battled to obtain."

"Really, Neville? You couldn't just say you wanted to cheer me up?"

"It's not as eloquent," he replied, dragging a finger down the center of her chest.

"So you scared the shit out of me by dragging me out of the shower instead. You know I could have hexed you into oblivion. Where's Hannah?" She tried to ignore her slowly mounting arousal.

"Hannah has found herself experiencing a loss of privileges at the present moment. Now, if you haven't any more questions, I should like to proceed if you are willing."

Épiphanie bit her lip and looked to Draco. He gave her a smoldering look, his silvery eyes dark with lust, and nodded. She narrowed her eyes.

 _Is this what you want?_

 _You can trust Neville. I see you're already aroused, dearest. I find that incredibly erotic._

"Yes."

"Excellent!" Neville slid his hand down her back, his long fingers played at the cleft of her ass.

 _Well done, Dragonfly!_

Neville fisted her wet hair and pulled her head back, licking her throat. She held her breath. He backed away from her and she looked at him curiously. He stood beside Draco, both wizards staring at her lasciviously. Épiphanie began to feel self-conscious as they stood looking at her. She moved her hands to cover her nakedness.

"Remain still, love. Arms at your sides." She dropped her hands. "Good girl. Draco."

She watched apprehensively as he approached her, his wand pointed. He dragged the hawthorn scepter over her slightly chilled flesh and she shivered. He traced the wand up her torso, over her shoulder and down her spine as he moved to stand behind her.

"Tu es si belle en ce moment, mon amour ( _You are so beautiful right now, my love_ )," he whispered in her ear as he began to plant a trail of kisses along the nape of her neck. "This will be the most intense test so far. I want to give you the most erotic experience you've ever had. Do you trust me?" he whispered, pressing his hips against her backside, his hand massaging circles over her clit.

"Y-yes, dearest." She stammered breathlessly. She couldn't take her eyes off Neville, who still stood staring at her hungrily. She could see the bulge of his erection straining against the fabric of his fine trousers.

"He wants you," Draco whispered. He sank two fingers inside her now slick pussy as he continued to kiss her. "I want you too."

"Umm."

"Does it turn you on to have us both wanting you?" Draco's wand hand was across her shoulders, holding her tightly. His own hard cock, restrained by his trousers, created delicious friction against the cleft of her buttocks.

"I—um—" She couldn't think. He nipped her shoulder.

"May I share you with him? I think you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he whispered, pinching her clit. She moaned. "Say 'join us, Neville.'"

"Mmm. J-join us, N-Neville. Please." She murmured, unsure of what she had just agreed to.

Neville was in front of her before she had even registered movement on his part. Draco pulled her head back.

"Open."

She parted her lips and Neville plunged his tongue into her mouth, his lips soft and insistent against hers, as he pinned her between himself and Draco. Épiphanie felt slightly faint as her pulse quickened and her breath hitched. He grabbed her thigh, lifting her leg against his hip. His cock, free now, rubbed over her clit, warm and throbbing. They lifted her slightly and she shifted onto the toes of the foot still planted on the floor and he slid his long shaft inside her.

"Oh!" she gasped at the sensation of the unfamiliar cock thrusting into her.

"Shit!" Neville hissed. "Merlin, you are amazing!" He fucked her against Draco, and she gripped his sleeves for leverage. "Thank your Draco for this gift, love. He would like to share in this tribute. Say 'yes, Draco'!" he instructed hoarsely.

"Yes, Draco!" she panted.

"Thank you, my love. Try to relax," he whispered, gripping his wand. " _Resigno_

 _Apertus!"_ he murmured.

"Oh, my god! Wha—?" She gasped, her rectum suddenly becoming slick as it relaxed and opened.

"Relax, love," Neville crooned as he continued to thrust into her pussy, biting her lip.

Before she knew it, she was filled deeply with both wizards' cocks, as they found a rhythm and fucked her with abandon. Neville held her ass and her head fell back against Draco's shoulder as her body slid between them, hot and damp. Her tight muscles clenched around both shafts as they slid against one another, separated by the thinnest veil of flesh inside her. They were easily sated and before long, she was teeming with hot cum.

Her legs were weak as they left her, and she sank to the floor, wet and throbbing, but her exquisite torture had only just begun.

" _Instigosempra!"_

"Unnnnh!" She moaned, arching her back as the insistent hum buzzed through her clitoris. "P-please!" she begged, drawing up her shaking legs.

" _Crucio Vexo!"_ A light stinging prickled the flesh of her stomach.

"Ah!" she cried out. Before she could relax, she was hit with another hex that tingled through her breasts. "Shit! Ohhhh!" she moaned.

They slowly circled her, flinging the teasing and tormenting hexes at her as she writhed in ecstasy, her eyes squeezed shut, damp hair splayed on the floor in a halo around her head, hands clenched in fists so tight that her knuckles were pale, her cries of pleasure ringing out into the empty training facility.

* * *

Harry stood in the corridor outside of the visitor's training rooms with Hermione and Ron, waiting for Ginny to emerge.

"It's too bad about the loss, mate," said Ron.

"Well, I rather think I have a win-win situation, Ron. My club made it to the League Cup in its first season, and even though we lost the final, I get to go home and lick my wounds with a snog from the winning team's MVP." Harry grinned. "That is, if she ever comes out of the shower. Everyone else is long gone."

"Keep your robes on, Harry. I'm right here," said Ginny, stepping out of the training rooms at last. "What can I say? You guys definitely spared no expense on these facilities. None of the other clubs have showers that awesome!" She passed her heavy equipment bag to Harry and took his hand. He gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Well done, love!"

"You were brilliant, Gin!" Ron hugged his sister.

"You should have seen the look Épiphanie shot me when I intercepted the quaffle for that final goal. I thought I was going to be hexed for sure!"

"She seemed quite calm at the press conference. I'm sure _The Prophet_ will comment on the 'poise and gracious sportsmanship of The Minister's Daughter as she commended her rival on the win!'" Hermione giggled. "At least Rita Skeeter wasn't there stirring up some dramatic Quidditch romance tragedy."

"Can we go? Mum's preparing a celebratory meal," Ron complained. "Did you invite Draco and Épiphanie?"

"I did. Draco mentioned something about other plans. I saw him and Neville headed for the training rooms after the press conference."

Ron and Hermione shared a look. Suddenly, a piercing cry rang out. They raced through the corridors in the direction of the sound, wands drawn, until they reached the Dragons' training rooms. Harry held up a hand, and they fell back just outside the door. He motioned for Ron to take up position against the far wall. Hermione posted herself on the opposite side of the door, and Ginny crouched behind Harry. They could hear strained moaning behind the door.

Harry lifted a finger to his lips and he eased the door open, peering inside. The training room was empty, but the furniture trembled so violently that even large pieces, like the captain's desk, moved over the floor. Several smaller items hovered freely in the air. They could hear voices coming from the Ladies' dressing area.

"Unnnnh! Pl-pleease!"

" _Instigosempra Duo!"_

 _"_ _Crucio Vexo!"_

"Aah! Nuh-unnnnnnnn!"

The voices casting the unfamiliar hexes were male, and the pained moaning was definitely female. All of the voices sounded familiar to the quartet of witches and wizards creeping stealthily through the training room with as much speed as they could muster, dodging the floating objects and moving furniture. What they saw when they reached the open door left them cold.

" _Protego!"_ Hermione screamed.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Ginny and Harry yelled at the same time.

"You _sonofabitch!"_ Ron charged at Draco, punching him hard in the face. Hermione and Ginny rushed to Épiphanie's side, summoning towels to cover her as she moaned and convulsed on the floor.

"What the fuck is this?" Harry grabbed Neville by the collar, his wand pointed at his throat.

" _Fuck_ , Weasley!" Draco spat, blood trickling from his lip. "What the hell are you doing here? It isn't what it looks like!"

Épiphanie was vaguely aware that something had happened, as the series of pricking hexes stimulating all of the sensitive areas of her flesh had abated, but the insistent vibrating in her clit continued. She pressed her knees together as her mind floated, barely conscious of the arms that were cradling her as she clung to the last vestiges of orgasm. She shuddered, and hummed hoarsely, tuning out the chaos around her.

"STOP!" Neville shouted forcefully. "Hermione, for fuck's sake, cast the counter-spell before she has a seizure!" Hermione hastily muttered a _finite incantatum,_ and Neville shrugged Harry off, straightening his robes. "Draco, see to Épiphanie. The rest of you, _out!_ " They stared at him incredulously. "Now!" he bellowed, storming from the dressing area to the training room without looking to see if they followed.

"What the _bloody hell_ was that, Longbottom!" Harry shouted. He and Ron still pointed wands at Neville. Hermione and Ginny stood at the door of the dressing room, their wands leveled at Draco, who knelt over Épiphanie, gently stroking her hair and whispering to her.

"It is quite frankly none of your business, Harry. I would like my wand back, please."

"Are you, _mad,_ man? Épiphanie is the daughter of the Minister of Magic! The woman is barely conscious and the two of you stand over her firing spells of unknown origin!"

"Like bloody Death Eaters!" Ron spat. Neville recoiled and gave Ron a look of revulsion. He pulled up the nearest chair and took a seat, calmly crossing his arms.

"As I said, it is none of your business. I would like my wand back, Harry. Draco and I have broken no laws. What happened here—what you _think_ you saw here—took place between three consenting mages. As soon as Épiphanie comes back to herself, she will tell you the same."

Épiphanie opened her eyes to see Ginny and Hermione hovering over Draco's shoulder. He wore a pained expression as he wrapped a dressing gown about her, and she noticed a bruise forming at the corner of his mouth where his lip was split.

"Oh, hell. I suddenly have the strongest feeling of déjà vu. This is going to be worse than the Imperious lesson isn't it? How embarrassed am I about to be?"

Draco pulled her close, and kissed her forehead, wincing through the pain in his lip.

"What happened to your face, love? _Episkey!_ " She waved a hand at his face, and he grunted as the injury healed itself.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Draco." Neville said from the other room. "Perhaps Épiphanie would like some privacy while she gets dressed."

"Of course," Draco replied softly. He lifted Épiphanie to her feet as he stood, and led her to the open locker with her name above it. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a look as they watched. She looked over her shoulder at the concerned and suspicious stares of their friends, and the mildly annoyed expression on Neville's face.

"Draco, have we been caught in flagrante delicto?" she whispered. He gave her an apologetic look and kissed her shoulder. "Aww, fuck!" she cursed, covering her face with her hands.

"You were beautiful, my love. Don't worry about it. Neville and I will take care of everything before we leave this room." He took her chin and turned her head gently to look at him. "Trust me. I love you. Get dressed." He kissed her again and left the dressing area.

"Épiphanie, I—I'm um—what happened here. Neville says that you were—um—" Harry stammered. "Are you well?" He asked once she'd been properly dressed and entered the training room.

"I'm fine, Harry." She took in his doubtful expression. "Really." Épiphanie moved to Draco's side, standing behind Neville.

"Will _somebody_ explain what just happened here?" Ron demanded. "I told you something dodgy was going on!"

"It's only dodgy to people who don't understand it, Ron. What we have is an alternative lifestyle of sorts," said Neville, calmly.

"How could you do such a thing to Hannah?" asked Ginny. "Neville, I thought you loved her!" she accused.

"I _do_ love Hannah with all my heart. She might have been here as well, but there were…extenuating circumstances."

"I still don't get it," said Ron. "Why are you always deferring to Neville? Since when does Draco Malfoy acquiesce to anyone?"

"Since I have introduced him to the philosophy of Donatien Alphonse François, and he, in turn has begun to instruct Épiphanie."

Ginny, Ron and Harry stared at him, nonplussed. Hermione drew in a sharp breath.

"You mean, you—" Her eyes widened. Neville nodded with a sardonic grin. Her expression wavered between disdain and awe. "I never would have—but in school you were—wow!"

"Had we known the building was not empty, we would never have engaged in such behavior here," said Draco. "It's not the sort of thing we would like to make public, and we would very much like to ensure that your knowledge of this information does not leave this room."

"Give them back their wands, Harry," she said. "And I don't know about you, but I think these are memories we should all do well to remove." She touched the tip of her wand to her temple.


	22. All I Ask of You

Grace ran ahead of Artemis, Teddy, and a rather weary-looking Andromeda when they met at Hogsmeade Station. Draco scooped up both girls in his arms and swung them around, wearing a broad grin.

"Artemis and Teddy are getting married!" Grace exclaimed.

"Are they? How do you know?" asked Draco. He lifted Artemis onto his shoulders and took Grace's hand firmly in his as they all maneuvered through the crowds of students waiting on the platform for the train to arrive with the Muggle parents. Some students whispered behind their hands and pointed, while others stared openly at the famous Quidditch players and their foster family.

"Because I told them to!" she explained, matter-of-factly. "They'll get married and have _lots and lots_ of babies with purple hair! _And_ they'll have a pet kneazle!" Draco rolled his eyes. Épiphanie pursed her lips to suppress a laugh.

Andromeda left them when they reached the Three Broomsticks, where Harry and Ginny were waiting. She had rented a room and declared herself in need of a nice long rest, announcing that herding cats is much simpler than keeping up with two toddlers and a precocious five-year-old. The three Quidditch stars and The-Boy-Who-Lived drew more than a few stares as they passed, the wizards carrying blue-haired metamorphagi children on their shoulders while Grace skipped along between Ginny and Épiphanie wearing a child-sized replica of Wiltshire Dragons robes in white with a green dragon on the front and golden lettering on the reverse, blue jeans and her first pair of trainers, which she'd steadfastly refused to take off once she'd received them.

The day passed in a blur of trading off children while signing autographs and standing for photos with fans, following excited children from entertainment venue to entertainment venue, explaining why we don't go near the whomping willow and diverting Hagrid's conversation from _any_ mention of kneazles or the feasibility having of other potentially dangerous creatures as pets.

With the children all tucked into bed later that evening, the couples joined Dean and Seamus and Neville and Hannah for drinks at the Three Broomsticks. When Harry requested oude jenever, Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Hm! And here I thought your tastes to be utterly pedestrian, Potter— _Harry,_ " Draco remarked.

"I discovered it while on an international Auror detachment in Belgium late last year. The Aurors who hosted us ordered a round, insisting that it was much better than firewhiskey," Harry replied as the barmaid handed them all their drinks, setting a tulip glass, filled to the brim on the table in front of him. "The name reminded me of my Ginevra, so I had to try it and the taste was indeed quite smooth."

"Do you prefer it to the Korenwijn, Harry?" asked Neville taking up his glass of red currant rum.

"The Korenwijn is more robust, but the oude is my favorite." Harry leaned forward over the freezing glass and took a sip without lifting it. He sat up and leveled his gaze at Draco. "Yes, I know how it's done." Draco pulled a face to indicate his impression and lifted his glass. Harry returned the gesture.

"I can't believe the Cup is Gryffindor versus Slytherin again!" Dean exclaimed.

"Well Slytherin only edged out Hufflepuff by twenty points. If Andrew Bivins hadn't caught that bludger to the rib, he'd have had the snitch," said Neville.

"I think the new brooms have seriously evened out the playing field. Wins now are truly based on skill," said Dean.

"Well, Draco? How about it? Fifty Galleons?" Harry wagered.

"One hundred," Draco raised him. Harry stretched out his hand. "To the Iron Bowl."

"To the Iron Bowl!"

* * *

When Harry grudgingly settled their wager following Gryffindor's defeat, and Slytherin's win of the Quidditch Cup, Draco turned the purse over to Headmistress McGonagall and pledged matching funds, designating half to be used for maintenance of the school's brooms store, and the other half to be spent on upkeep of the war memorial. She stared at the wizards dumbstruck.

"Ten years ago, gentlemen, I could never have conceived of a day that two such incensed rivals as the two of you would form a profitable partnership and reshape the very fabric of inter-house relations here at Hogwarts. Then she gave them a wink. "I shall still have to retire before your children reach the age of eleven!"

That evening, they joined the other select guests in the Great Hall and beamed with pride as the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams paraded into the hall for the first waltz of the Spring Promenade. They joined in the second waltz, all eyes on the famous wizards and witches. When the music ended, Ron and Harry bowed low to Hermione and Ginny. A gasp of amazement rippled through the assembly as both dropped to one knee and took the hand of their mate.

"Hermione Granger…"

"Ginevra Weasley…"

"Will you please honor me by accepting this pledge, and be my wife?" They spoke in unison, and moved in unison, drawing their wands, upon which rested beautiful diamond rings.

Hermione stared in shock and Ginny began to cry. A murmur rose from the crowd as they waited for the witches to respond.

"Quit foostering and say 'yes' already! The lads're ready to dance!" Seamus called out.

Finally, both of them managed to nod their assent, Hermione falling to her knees with Ron, and the rings lifted and settled on their hands.


	23. And the Daughters of Life's Longing

"Draco must have clutched his pearls and swooned when he walked in and saw _this!_ " Seamus laughed, taking in the scarlet and gold decorations that bedecked the drawing room of Malfoy Manor. Florists, decorators and hired out house elves bustled around them, laying tables, arranging flowers and polishing everything in sight.

"Actually, he laughed out loud," replied Épiphanie.

"Really?" Seamus looked at her in surprise.

"His exact words were 'Take _that_ , Lucius!'" she laughed. Seamus joined her.

"Bastard's likely turning in his grave and going spare!"

"I can hear him now: 'How _dare he!_ My own drawing room festooned in _Gryffindor_ heraldry? The shame of it! Malfoy Manor, hosting a banquet for _Harry Potter_ and that filthy blood traitor! I _have_ no son!' If he wasn't already dead, he'd have a coronary!" They laughed some more. "How's Dean? Will he be here?" she asked, her face turning serious.

"He still hasn't decided. I think he wants to. He wants to support Ron an' Hermione an' Harry an' Ginny. It's hard for him ye know?"

"I do. I was surprised when they agreed to let us host their engagement party. It was Hermione's acceptance that sealed the deal. Until recently, he'd kept it locked, and I never asked to see it. I could feel the pain and anguish just from touching the doors. He's had every furnishing and fixture in here replaced, and he asked me to do a purifying ritual of the entire house. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help Dean."

"Aye, he might appreciate tha'. Where's Draco anyway?"

"In the nursery with the girls. He's supervising their lessons today. The deadline for Pansy to return or give up her rights to Artemis is tomorrow, and he's not wanted to be far from them."

Tickety appeared and bowed. "Mistress, Master Draco has a visitor." Épiphanie turned to see Narcissa Malfoy standing in the doorway, wearing a look of disbelief.

* * *

"A—is for apple," said Draco. He flicked his wand and a drawing of an apple appeared on the chalkboard.

"Abble," said Artemis.

"Well done, Artemis," he said. "Grace."

"Apple—a-p-p-l-e—apple!"

"Excellent, love. Now, B—is for broom."

"Boom," Artemis babbled.

" _Broom_ , Artemis."

"Vroom!"

"Okay, we'll work on that. Now, Grace." He looked at her, but her eyes were fixed on a point behind him.

"Draco?" He spun around at the sound of her voice.

"Mother?" Draco stared at Narcissa in astonishment.

"Why is the drawing room festooned in scarlet and gold? What is the meaning of this?" Her voice was soft as she gestured to the girls.

"Erm, right—erm…" Draco stood and took a deep breath to pull himself together. Malfoys did not stammer. "Mother, I'm sure you remember Grace, Gregory Goyle's sister, and this is Artemis—Pansy's daughter." He turned to the children. "Gracie, why don't you girls go play? That's all the lessons we will do today." He gave them a smile. "I'll have Pippy bring some petit fours with tea, would you like that?"

"Yippee! Come on Artemis!" She grabbed the other girl's hand and pulled her into the playroom.

Draco escorted Narcissa down to the study. "Is everything alright, Mother? I wasn't expecting you."

"Everything is fine, Draco. I simply wanted to see you. Andromeda mentioned that you were hosting a banquet this evening."

"Yes. Harry Potter is marrying Ginevra Weasley, and Ronald is marrying Hermione. I am hosting their formal betrothal."

"I see," she said. "Your father would be scandalized to see such a display."

"I am thoroughly unconcerned with what Lucius would say, Mother." Draco's voice was cool. He went to the window and looked out, seeing nothing.

"Calm down, my son. This is _your_ home, and you may do as you wish. The girls—there have been pictures and articles in the papers."

"I should have written, Mother. Forgive me. However, both girls came into our custody because they were in danger at the time. Pureblood honor mandates that I provide for them. Goyle has already signed the necessary documents."

"And Pansy? Draco, you told me that you weren't the child's father." Narcissa's voice held a slight accusatory tone.

"I am not, Mother. Vincent Crabbe was the girl's father. Pansy abandoned her in Diagon Alley, right before my eyes just as the child's _grandfather_ tried to attack us all, so he could get his hands on Grace in some convoluted attempt to finish what Lucius started—a plan that began with killing me!" Draco snapped. He turned to her. "Forgive me Mother. I didn't mean to be impudent." He took a breath. "So very much has taken place, Mother. I don't even know where to begin. I can only say that I have come to love these girls. I—I want to be their father, and if I'm lucky, I want give them a life that Lucius never gave to me."

Narcissa went to her son and took his hands, looking directly into his eyes. "What about The Minister's daughter? Where does she fit into this picture?"

Dean gripped Seamus' hand tightly and fought to control his breathing, to no avail.

"I—don't—think—I can—" he gasped. He felt as if he was choking, and he tugged at his cravat to loosen it.

"Just breathe, love. _Breathe!"_ Seamus' eyes were filled with worry. Dean looked as if he might pass out at any moment.

Just then, the tall ornately carved doors of The Manor swung open. The sound of music and voices floated out into the night as Épiphanie stepped out. She was radiant in her silver robes and her smile was bright as she moved gracefully towards them with open arms.

"Seamus! Dean! You made it!" she exclaimed. Épiphanie gave Seamus a light peck and squeezed his hand before turning to Dean. "Dean, I'm so glad you're here. Harry and Ron will be delighted. So will Hermione and Ginny," she said softly, drawing him into her embrace.

Dean hugged her mechanically and stepped back, but she kept her hands on his arms and looked into his eyes. At that moment, he felt his constricted lungs fill with air, and the tears that he'd struggled to hold back fell freely. He shuddered and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she planted a soft kiss on each cheek. He was reminded of the way his mother kissed him when he was a little boy and he had awakened from a nightmare.

When she released him, he felt freer than he had in a very long time, and he smiled at the beautiful American witch who'd arrived in their world and set them all on a course they'd never thought their lives could take. Dean turned to Seamus and gave him a deep kiss that left his partner gaping at him in stunned amazement, and gripped his hand.

"Shall we?" he said, leading them into the house.

* * *

"He does look quite comfortable in the role, doesn't he?" Angelique stood at her daughter's side, watching Grace waltzing about the floor with Draco.

"He loves them both to pieces," Épiphanie replied. She sipped her champagne.

"What about you, sha?"

"What about me, Maman? They're beautiful, smart—that Grace is a lot like me actually."

"Épiphanie—"

"Maman, I know how you feel about this—us—me and Draco, but I'm almost nineteen. In the magical world, I'm very much an adult. Other witches my age are already married and expecting children. I know it's hard for you to try to get to know the wizarding world, especially to do it under the mantle of being married to a public figure, but it's not the same as the world we came from—and you know that, by nature of our ancestry, we stood out in that one too." She paused and took another sip of champagne. "I love Draco. I really do. I love these girls. I feel as if they were sent to us because the spirits knew that we would love them and protect them at all costs."

"But you aren't—"

"I _know,_ Maman, but it doesn't matter to me. If it's meant to be, it will be."

Angelique sighed and sipped her champagne. "Alright, sha. Just consider all of your options and be sure that you are making the choice that's right for Épiphanie and no one else." She took her daughter's hand and gave it a squeeze. Épiphanie smiled at her mother.

"I will. I promise."

The dance came to an end and Grace gave an elegant curtsy as the guests clapped enthusiastically. She skipped over to Épiphanie with a bright smile on her face.

"I didn't mess up _one time!_ " she exclaimed.

"You were the belle of the ball, ma bébé!" Épiphanie bent to kiss the girl on the forehead. "But now it's time for bed, ma chère."

"Aww! Do I have to?" Grace turned to Draco with wide imploring eyes.

"Well, looks like we know who does the spoiling," Angelique whispered.

"Remember our deal, little Charis. One dance and off to bed. It wouldn't do for the birthday girl to fall asleep in her cake, now would it?" Draco arched a brow.

Grace twisted her lips as she considered his words, before responding with a slight pout. "No." She toed the parquet floor with her slipper.

"Come along then." He held out his hand. "Would you like me to tuck you in?"

Draco smoothed the blanket over Grace's shoulders, kissing her lightly on the forehead, while Épiphanie checked on Artemis and Teddy, who was sleeping over, in the twin cots across the room. She chuckled softly at the sight of both children with manes of blonde curls as they slept.

Draco took her hand and they quietly slipped from the room. Hermione stepped into the nursery just as they closed the door.

"Hermione! Is everything okay downstairs?" Draco asked.

"The party is lovely! Really! Thanks so much for hosting us! I can't imagine how exhausted you must be, doing all this with Grace's birthday tomorrow as well!" She smiled, and then turned serious. "Is it okay if we talk for a minute?"

Draco and Épiphanie exchanged a look before turning back to her and nodding.

"We've located Pansy," she said. Draco's heart thudded in his chest so forcefully that he was certain it would leap right out. He gripped Épiphanie's hand tightly.

"Apparently, she's been in Brussels all this time. She's engaged to be married to some wizard there who has no idea that the child exists."

"So, does that mean that she signed the papers?" Épiphanie asked. Draco was grateful to Épiphanie for asking. His throat was so dry, he felt as if it was filled with sand. He held his breath as Hermione held out a folded parchment.


	24. Just One More Present

The gardens were alive with the fragrances of Lily-of-the-valley, and pink roses. All of the trees were draped in streamers that fluttered in the light breeze, and even the albino peacocks for which the Manor was famous, deigned to display their covert feathers as they strutted about. Children ran in all directions, playing games of tag, riding the hippogriff carousel, and chasing the dragonflies that darted around, their bodies shimmering in the sunlight. On one side of a bright marquee, there was a large table laden with piles of gifts. On the other, a lavish buffet was laid, with a tiered cake fit for a princess.

"C'est une fête assez impressionnante, Épiphanie. ( _This is quite an impressive party,_ _Épiphanie._ ) Everything ees so beautiful!"

"Merci, Fleur. Draco really wanted her to feel special. D'ailleurs, elle pensait que la fête du printemps était tout pour célébrer l'anniversaire de Victoire ( _Besides, she thought that the Spring Fete was all to celebrate Victoire's birthday_ ), and she would _not_ be outdone! We had to compromise on the carousel, because she couldn't understand why we couldn't have the London Eye brought in for the party!" They laughed heartily at this and Épiphanie called everyone for cake.

"Where did all of these children come from?" asked Professor McGonagall as they took seats at one of the many tables under the canopy.

"Well, you know Teddy and Victoire of course. Dean brought his sisters. That's them there," she pointed to three black girls who were seated at the table with Grace, Teddy and Artemis. The rest are children of other players and staff with The Dragons."

"I must say, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley getting married seemed a foregone conclusion, and there were wagers on how long it would take Ronald to work up the courage to ask Hermione for her hand. However, Draco Malfoy taking in foundlings—I never would have believed it, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," the Headmistress declared.

"That seems to be the general sentiment," Épiphanie replied.

Grace squealed with delight when Hagrid arrived and presented her with a kneazle kitten—which was already half her size. The golden feline swished its plumed tail as she stroked its pointed ears.

"You _said_ you were going to get her a cat," Épiphanie said to Draco as they looked on.

"Well…it's a feline," he replied with a shrug.

"I'm going to name him Rhadamanthus!" Grace exclaimed.

" _That's_ a mouthful," laughed Ron. The kneazle hissed at him and turned, haughtily swatting his leg with its tail as it pranced over to the gift table and leapt onto it, settling next to the pile of presents.

"Looks like you'll be as popular with him as you were with Crookshanks, Ron!" Harry teased.

"Ah, shut it, Potter!" Ron muttered.

Grace quickly opened all of her presents. There was a bubble machine from George and Angelina. She received chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts Every Flavor beans from Molly and Arthur. Hermione gave her a collection of muggle children's novels about a girl named Ramona Quimby. Teddy gave her pygmy puff.

"Oh, that's going to be fun—a kneazle _and_ a pygmy puff?" Ginny giggled. "Good luck with that!"

"At least he didn't get her a hippogriff!" said Épiphanie.

Ron snorted, choking on his juice. Harry pressed his lips together and Hagrid turned bright red. Neville, Dean and Seamus laughed uncontrollably, leaning on one another for support.

" _Trust me,_ Épiphanie, Draco will _never_ give Grace a hippogriff of any sort!" Dean chortled.

Draco gave them all a baleful glare.

"Okay, I guess we'll circle back to that one later. Something tells me there's a story there." She turned to Draco expectantly, but he was crouched at Grace's level.

"Did you get all of the gifts you wanted, my love?" he asked.

"Yes!" She gave him a bright smile.

"There's one more gift, love!" Draco gave her a box wrapped in silver with a green bow. She pulled the ribbon and opened it. Inside was a small silver locket in the shape of a heart. Draco took it out and placed it around her neck.

"What does it say?" he asked. She opened the heart and read the inscription.

"To my…" she faltered at the next word.

"Darling…" he prompted.

"Darling…Grace Malfoy, Love Father." She released the pendant and threw her arms around Draco.

"Is it okay if I give your sister a gift today?" he asked, squeezing her tightly. She nodded, and Draco placed a charm bracelet with a similar locket around Artemis' tiny wrist, then he whispered in her ear and gave her a box.

"One more!" Artemis said. She toddled over to Épiphanie and held up the box.

"For me?" Épiphanie looked curious as she opened the box to find a small posy made up of tulips, honeysuckle and lily of the valley. Molly, Andromeda, Angelique and Minerva gasped, and shared knowing smiles. Épiphanie took the flowers from the box and looked to see Draco kneeling between Grace and Artemis.

"With these flowers—tulips, I declare my love to you…honeysuckle, I bind myself to you…lily-of-the-valley, I express the happiness you have brought to my life."

"Will you marry our daddy?" asked Grace and Artemis.


	25. Shadows and Dreams

He watched her, perched on the parapet, looking out at the darkness; fat snowflakes sparkled in the moonlight as they fell, blanketing the castle grounds. She wrapped her cloak about herself and took a puff on her cigar, tasting the flavor for a few seconds before exhaling slowly.

"I was beginning to think the depths of the library had claimed you," she said to him as he appeared from the shadows.

"The library is a harsh taskmaster, but your siren song will always draw me away even from the pursuit of enlightenment," he replied.

"Look at you waxing poetic!" she teased and offered the cigar to him.

"No. All I want is you." He held out his hand and Épiphanie carefully stepped away from the crenel where she was sitting. "Your hands are like ice!" he declared, kissing first the fingers on her right, then the fingers on her left hand.

Épiphanie slipped her hands into his robes and around his waist, pressing herself against him. He wrapped his arms around her and inclined his head to hers, crushing his lips against hers painfully. She nipped at his lip and he softened his pressure.

"Merlin, you taste so good!" he whispered, his hands traveling down her back and settling themselves on the curve of her bottom. He gripped her ass and ground his hips against hers.

Épiphanie paused. She could tell something wasn't right. He had been too aggressive.

"Draco—"

"Shh! Don't talk!"

 _What_? Épiphanie began to lean away from him. He tightened his grip and moved with her until the back of her legs touched the crenel once more.

 _Il n'est pas nécessaire de se précipiter, mon furet._

 _What?_ She was in his head, but he doesn't understand what she is trying to communicate with him. Why French? _Damn, I could take you right here!_

Épiphanie shoved him away, roughly. "Draco!" she glared at him. He smiled at her lasciviously. She looked at him suspiciously. "Who are you?" Her hand went for her wand.

"Expelliarmus!" The coveted wand sailed through the air and into his grip.

"Don't fuck with me, Draco!" she glared at him. "What the hell?"

He heard the sound of feet pounding on the stairs below, and someone called her name.

Épiphanie turned and looked to the spiral staircase and he fired a stunner.

"Épiphanie!" He saw himself below, shouting her name as he cast the stunner, and she tumbled over the parapet. "Nooo!" he heard himself cry.

Potter fired a stunner upward at him as they raced up the last steps, only to have it blocked by his shield. He fired off a curse at Potter and himself, and Harry grabbed his wandless other self by the back of his robes, pulling him down as the killing curse flew past them and destroyed a telescope on the far side of the tower. He dropped his wand, using the momentary distraction to run for the wall, transforming into a Kestrel and taking off.

Draco found himself waking with a start, and gasping for breath. He stared up at the elaborately painted ceiling above the bed which depicted a powerful wizard in the clouds pointing his wand at an attacking dragon, the images barely visible in the darkened room. He stilled his panicked breathing, closing his eyes, and rolled onto his side, his hands seeking out the warmth of Épiphanie's lithe figure, but only finding a pillow. Draco sat up then, summoning his wand and lighting it. He was alone in bed. The pounding in his chest began to hammer anew and he threw back the covers. He was across the floor in a few steps, but the bath was also empty.

"Épiphanie!" his voice was strangled, and her name came out as more of a frightened pant than a cry. He went to the sitting room only to be disappointed once more, and his panic mounted again when he did not find her in her own suite of rooms. "Merlin and Salazar, _please!_ " he whispered urgently to himself as he ran along the cool marble floor of the corridor until he reached the nursery.

Draco pushed open the doors and stumbled over forgotten toys and game pieces, his bare feet crying out with each lurching step. He ignored the pain of a chess piece crumbling underfoot and flung himself through the bedroom door.

"Ishe oluwa…koleba jeo…ishe oluwa…koleba jeo…" She was singing quietly as she rocked Artemis in her arms, stroking the toddler's crimson curls.

Draco let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a sob. She turned to find him gripping the door frame desperately. Épiphanie carefully got to her feet and carried the child back to bed, covering her with a blanket. She went to him and he grabbed her into a crushing embrace.

"I—you weren't there! I couldn't find you—I thought—" Draco buried his face in her hair as he clung desperately to her.

They went back to his suite and curled up together on the silk loveseat in front of the fireplace. Draco continued to hold tightly to Épiphanie as she rested her head on his chest. They were silent for several minutes before she spoke.

"When I woke up, and you weren't there—I didn't—I was afraid the girls would be gone too."

"No! I just—couldn't sleep." What she wasn't saying was that she had had the same dream. It worried her. Épiphanie had not had her own dreams for several years. She had always experienced the subconscious of others, unless she was able to clear her mind and shut out the world. "It's still so unbelievable. We're going to be married."

She looked at the extraordinary platinum petite French pave crown diamond engagement ring with emerald side stones nestled on her left hand. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's okay, Ma Zirondelle." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. He was quiet for a while before speaking again. "My mother used to rock me in that chair, when I was small. She never sang to me though, not that I recall her having much of a voice. She was quite an accomplished pianist though."

"Hm." Épiphanie murmured.

"You sing songs in languages that…"

"One of the things that Maman has always collected in her studies and travels were songs. She sang them to me when I was little. I liked the African and Caribbean ones best. They're just so melodic and gentle."

"That one, you were singing. What was it?" he asked.

"Ishe oluwa koleba jeo. It's a hymn, actually. In Yoruba language, it means roughly, 'What the creator has done cannot be destroyed.' There have been many variations on the song over the years, but just those words say enough for me."

"I—we're going to be married. We already have a family. Somehow it just doesn't seem real. I fear that it's all a dream just waiting to be torn away. I'm not Potter, or Weasley. I don't deserve this—you—a chance at real happiness."

"Yes, you do, ma bébé. We both do. We all do." She snuggled into his embrace.

"Are you certain that you aren't bothered by not having the wedding in New Orleans? So many of your friends won't be able to attend." Draco stroked her hair. Épiphanie let out a sigh.

"It would have been impractical. I talked it over with Maman and Papa, and I want a magical wedding. We couldn't do that over there with my muggle friends. Besides, it's become a damned circus as it is. When Ron escorted me and the girls to Madame Malkin's for their final fitting, people actually mobbed her storefront. She'd had to cover her windows and Ron had to call in more Aurors to help clear the street! I feel so bad because he and Hermione had to put off moving into their new house from Grimmauld Place because reporters were camped out there after a rumor was put about that I had planned a secret dress fitting there. You'd think it was a damned royal wedding!"

"It is, love. The Lady Épiphanie Glapion-Shacklebolt is marrying Lord Salisbury. The daughter of The Minister of Magic is marrying Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater-turned-philanthropist, and owner of the Quidditch Club that's fast taking on the league. After the Potter's and Weasley's weddings, it will be the most talked-about event of the year. Ours is _much more_ scandalous!" he laughed.

"Well, I swear to _GOD,_ if I see that Rita Skeeter chick lurking about one more time, I'm gonna turn her ass into a fucking pygmy puff and feed her to Rhadamanthus!" She scowled. "Is your mother okay with this?"

"Of course she is, Dragonfly. She's over the moon. We have both lived to see me marry and have a family. It's something that she once thought might never happen. She was the one who suggested having the ceremony in the old grand conservatory beside the lake."

"It really is a beautiful structure," said Épiphanie.

"It's where Mother had—she had wanted to have her own ceremony there, but their parents insisted on a much grander venue."

"Where? Westminster Abbey?" Épiphanie joked. Draco touched his nose. "Seriously? But what about the muggles?"

"Lucius I, had had a dalliance with Queen Elizabeth I, and wished to marry her. Things didn't quite turn out, but I'm told that as a result of the relationship, wizards have access to a secret chamber within the Abbey that is quite grand."

"And people think the Glapions have a colorful history! You Malfoys are the stuff of legend!"

Draco reached for his wand and gave it a wave. "I was going to wait until the day of the ceremony to give you this," a flat velvet jewel box floated into his hands. "But I feel compelled to present it to you now, my beloved."

"It's not the Hope diamond is it?" she giggled.

"Oh, heavens no! The Tavernier Blue is one of the most dangerous dark artefacts in existence. Even the Malfoys have not been foolish enough to attempt acquiring it. No, this is a new creation, I had commissioned especially for you.

She lifted the lid to reveal a stunning pendant, showcasing two vibrant green emeralds which clearly totaled more than four carats, accented by sparkling marquise and round brilliant diamonds in a platinum setting. The pendant was attached to a delicate chain of goblin-made silver. Épiphanie was speechless.

"It's amazing! I—it's too much!"

"The world itself is not enough for you, my beloved. Perhaps in a decade or so, Grace will be wearing it on her wedding day." Draco's voice wavered on his last statement. He'd not even considered until that very moment that a day would come so soon after his own wedding in which he would possibly walk his own daughters down the aisle. Épiphanie gave him a contemplative smile, as if the thought was suddenly real to her as well.

"I have a gift for you too, but it's not quite ready yet." She closed the jewel box.

"I'm certain that I will love it." He took her hand. "I suppose we should try to get a bit of sleep. Someone has a hen party tomorrow night." He winked as he pulled her up.

"And someone else has a stag night," she winked. "Don't let Neville get up to too much. I'd like us both to be in one piece for the wedding."

"Well, I doubt he'll get up to much. After all, Ron and Harry will be there. I don't think they could take another shock. Should I remind you ladies to behave yourselves too—and Seamus?"

They crawled into bed and Épiphanie snuggled into his side.

"Draco?"

"Yes, my beloved."

"Will our relationship change after we're married? I mean—what we do. Will we—you and—" Her fingers moved over the silver band on his little finger.

"Will you still want to be my submissive?" he asked.

"I—well, I think so. Yeah—yes, I would. I just—"

"My darling, you know that you may speak freely. How do you _really_ feel about our circle of friends—Neville and Hannah, Dean and Seamus?"

"They're fine, I guess. I mean, they're great people. They get us, like maybe no one else does."

"What about Neville?" he asked. "Does he—erm—my relationship with him bother you?" He turned on his side, pressing against her back and pulling her close. Draco laced his fingers with hers, effectively pinning her arms against her chest. Épiphanie shifted in his embrace. She wished that she could look into his face—see his eyes.

"I don't know Drake. What I really want is to know how deep your relationship is. What is he to you?"

Draco was silent for several minutes. Finally, he kissed the junction between her neck and her shoulder.

"I don't know if I can explain it, Dragonfly."

"Try."

Draco sighed. "He's my mentor—and in a way, he protects me. It's funny that the people we're closest to now were not in Slytherin House. When I got to Hogwarts, house loyalty was everything. When it's all said and done, the people who have been most loyal to me—to us—were the same people I was taught to despise. In the end, Neville is the one who helped me face my demons, let me be who I am on the inside. You hold my heart, beloved—you and the girls. Neville protects it."

"Draco, have you—I mean—you can tell me if—"

"I'm not bent. Nor is Neville."

"Yeah, well neither am I. It didn't stop me from letting Hannah fuck me. And being gay didn't stop me and Seamus from having it on either."

"Neville and I have never had sex. Am I aroused, do I get off from the things he does to me? Yes. When we had you in the dressing room after the League Cup, I was incredibly fucking turned on by the sensation of sliding against him inside you. I don't know what that is, or what that means. Maybe I _am_ a switch. I hadn't given it much thought before, but I don't care. _You_ are my beginning and my end, but Neville has become a very close friend and the confidant that I never had in any of the so-called friends with whom I was raised. In return for the guidance and care he has shown to me, I give him a certain amount of deference. Whatever I can do to show him my gratitude for bringing me out of the situation that I was in, helping me find my way back to you and guiding me to the place and person that I want to be, I will do. Be that showing him the utmost hospitality, attending to his desires and anticipating his needs, and accepting his instruction as well as his correction. I hope you understand that. But if you wish to call an end to—"

"No! I mean, it's not that. I just wanted to understand what we have—what we are doing once we are married."

"We're going to— _I'm_ going to do whatever makes you happy, my immortal beloved. I will earn your trust and your love, but I will also earn and expect your obedience." Draco pulled her onto her back and stretched himself on top of her, nudging her thighs apart with his knee. "Whatever it takes to have you by my side; to wake up to your beautiful face every morning." Draco pressed his lips to hers and kissed her deeply.

Épiphanie reached up to wrap her arms around him, but he caught her hands and held them against the pillows as she continued to kiss her. She didn't resist, and allowed him to hold her, gently caressing her face with his lips until he fell asleep. Somewhere in the night, pinned beneath her fiancé, Épiphanie heaved a sigh. She knew who killed Gideon Goyle, and she wondered if Draco knew as well.


	26. Girl, Interrupted

The bird looks up from the dark pit at the opening high above. Its captors thought that they'd covered all of their contingencies. They were wrong. The caged bird leaps into the air and begins to circle, higher and higher. The beam of light from the opening becomes an open expanse of sky, drawing it ever closer. When the bird reaches the top, it perches on the edge of the pit and looks down into it, letting out a cry that echoes down into the dark chamber before taking flight.

* * *

"Cheers! Woohooo!"

Épiphanie raised her glass with her friends, and adjusted the plastic tiara with the word "Bride!" spelled out in rhinestones atop her head. She was crowded into the VIP room at Nightshade with Ginny, Hermione, Hannah, and Seamus. Iolanthe Potter had brought along Stella Montague, a member of the Krewe of Hallows who'd helped them take down The Servants in New Orleans. Both witches proclaimed their excitement at being invited to the wedding and making their first trip abroad. Seamus stood on wobbly legs and held up his glass.

"Here's to Épiphanie Glapion-Snazzlebolt—I mean Shacklebolt! The prettiest—next to me o'course—most powerful witch of our time! The first witch to capture the hearts of TWO nations, she is! And we're ALL so happy she tamed the dragon—Lord Draco! Mrs. Épiphanie Glapion-Shacklebolt-Malfoy ye've got a mouthful—oops! Tha' din't quite come out right!" he giggled. The witches howled with laughter. "Here's to you, macushla! Sláinte!"

"Sláinte!" the women cheered. "Speech! Speech! Speech!"

"Oh, my god! You guys are soooo awesome! I can't believe that four years ago, I was just a girl with some strange abilities, whose claim to fame was telling fortunes for tourists. Now, I'm the daughter of the nation's top government official, star of a team in a sport I never knew existed, already a _mother_ of two, and about to marry probably one of the world's most notorious wizards, who is head over heels in love with me. How crazy is that? Who would've thought a Slytherin would find her friendships among a bunch of Gryffindors, a Hufflepuff, and a couple of Wampus girls from Ilvermorny—a school that I had thought was a hoax? I never had friends—not really close ones anyway—and none of them were like me. This means so much to me. Thanks girls—and Seamus!"

They raised their glasses again, and Épiphanie handed out gifts to her matrons of honor, Ginny and Hermione. Then she received gifts from all of her friends.

Hermione gave her a peignoir set. "It's for the big night—not that you'll have it on for very long!" she laughed.

Iolanthe and Stella gave her a book titled _There's a Spell for That: The Good Witch's Guide to Exciting Her Wizard_

"I bet she already knows half those spells," Hannah winked.

"I'll betcha she doesn't even _need '_ em! Y'ever see the way Draco loses his shite when she's around? Always feekin the beour if she's in a foot of 'im! Can't keep his hands off her! Ye've got 'im on Amortentia, ye do!"

Épiphanie flushed at Seamus' description of her effect on Draco—though it was true that he was very physically demonstrative towards her.

"Ah, look! She's colorin'!" he teased.

"Here's your something blue," said Ginny, passing her a small box. Épiphanie opened it to reveal a delicate lace handkerchief with her married initials—E.M.—embroidered in blue thread and framed with embroidered lily of the valley.

"This is _beautiful,_ Ginny! When did you ever have time to do that?"

"When your husband is an Auror, and you're traveling with the team, you need plenty to keep you busy at night. Mum's just glad I've bothered with at least one of the domestic skills she taught me!"

"Here! This is from me and Seamus." Hannah handed over a large box which felt heavy on Épiphanie's lap.

"There's two layers," said Seamus. "Don't open the bottom layer 'til yer alone with hubby!" he gave her a conspiratorial wink.

"Oh, Lord, I'm afraid to look!" Épiphanie laughed, lifting the lid. "I knew it!" There was all manner of exotic lingerie in leather and latex and a pair of stiletto heels that seemed much more suited for a strip club than anywhere she could think of wearing them. Ginny and Hermione snatched the skimpy items and held them up for everyone to see, the group squealing with humorous delight and betting which ones Draco would like best, and what he would say about them.

"Hey, here's another. Who's it from?" Iolanthe passed a silver box over. They all shook their heads.

"There's a Slytherin crest on the tag," said Hermione.

"Ooh! Maybe Draco sent it over! A little somethin' naughty!" Seamus exclaimed. "Open it!"

Épiphanie pulled the ribbon and removed the lid of the silver box. She wrinkled her brow at the weighted silver emblem in confusion. The image was frighteningly absurd.

"What the hell?" she blurted.

"What is it?" Iolanthe asked. Épiphanie lifted the effigy and held it up. Her friends let out a horrified gasp.

"Épiphanie! Put it down! Put it down, _now!_ " Hermione shrieked, drawing her wand.

Just then, the device began to vibrate in her hand, and she felt the tug behind her navel.

"Shit! No!" Épiphanie screamed.

"Épiphanie!"

* * *

"Alright, mate! Tonight, prepare to be _stunned!_ " Harry exclaimed when Draco opened the door, and his friends barged excitedly into the foyer at Antares Hall.

"Are we dueling?" Draco smirked. "Because all I really want is to get completely buggered, and hopefully apparate home without getting splinched!"

"Will there be girls? That's all I want to know!" Ron demanded.

"Wow, has married life with Hermione already done you in, Weasley?" Draco clapped the redhead on his shoulder.

"Ha! Just you wait and see how Épiphanie changes in a year. Hell, _you two_ are already _parents!_ "

"Before you know it, he'll be finding more hair in his brush than on his pretty little head!" Dean teased, reaching towards Draco's head. Draco ducked out of his reach before he could touch his immaculately styled tresses, and gave a toss of the shoulder-length platinum hair.

"So, I take it we're heading out to some muggle dive with scantily clad serving wenches?" he asked.

"Muggle—yes—but honestly, Draco! Would I have gone in for anything less than top shelf for you, my friend?" Neville gave him a sultry smirk. He leaned close and whispered. "Tonight, I cater to you, love. Enjoy."

The bell chimed and he opened the door to a liveried driver who introduced himself and the wizards all followed him to the waiting limousine. They were whisked through the city to an opulent venue called _Stringfellows,_ where they enjoyed a meal befitting a king in a sumptuously decorated restaurant while beautiful nudes danced at their table side. After the meal, the group was shown to a private seating area where, with a wink and a smile, Harry and Neville pressed several bills that they called _heavenly money_ into his hands.

"Enjoy!" they exclaimed. A number of young and beautiful naked dancers descended upon the table and began to perform especially for Draco. The group was happily ogling the women and toasting their friend, when Draco stood abruptly, nearly pushing the young woman, who was practically pressing her pussy into his face, to the ground.

"Do forgive me, dear!" he exclaimed nervously. He reached out a hand to steady her.

"S'alright, love. First time?" she winked.

"Ah, no—erm—just have a bit of something to take care of." The ring on his finger burned, and he turned to Neville. "Something's wrong!"

Just then, Harry fished a small mirror from his pocket, looking at it closely, and Dean flexed his hand. Neville started suddenly, drawing his own ringed finger in tightly.

"We have to go!" Harry said.

They flung a pile of cash onto the table and hurried from the nightclub. Ducking into the nearest alley, they apparated to Grimmauld Place where Hermione, Ginny, Seamus, Hannah, Iolanthe and Stella were waiting, their expressions frantic.

"Where's Épiphanie?" Draco asked. He looked past them to the empty hallway. "What's going on?"

"Oh, Draco!" Hermione exclaimed. "We had no idea!"

"What?"

"We thought the gift was from you, but then she picked it up—" Seamus began to explain.

"Hermione told her to put it down, but it was too late!" Ginny cried.

"What?" he demanded. " _What gift?_ What's going on? What happened?"

"A silver casting of—of The Dark Mark!" cried Hermione. "It was a portkey, Draco! She's gone!" She held up Épiphanie's wand.

"No!" he gasped.

* * *

Épiphanie inhaled sharply as her back hit the hard stone floor, knocking the wind out of her.

" _Incarcerous!"_

She was tightly bound before she could even gather her wits about her to move. Épiphanie struggled mightily for a few seconds, but she knew that it was useless. The only way to free herself would be to cast a counter-spell, but she needed to know what—or whom—she was up against before she acted. She blinked several times to adjust her eyes to the darkness and worked to control her breathing in order to gather her wits about her. The collar about her throat felt hot enough to burn her skin.

" _Lumos!_ " The white wandlight cast his face in an eerie glow. The rabbity-looking face was gaunt, and his hair, now much longer, was limp around his face, but still she knew him. "Remember me?" he hissed into her ear.

The room went dark again.

"I don't—I don't—" he stammered. "We have to go! We have to find her! Neville!" Draco paced irritably, his fingers twisting his ring. "Why isn't it fucking _working!_ " he swore.

"They must have made themselves and her unplottable," said Neville. "It's the only thing that disrupts the charm."

"But, Neville, if they—" Draco began. His voice was frantic. Neville placed a reassuring hand on Draco's shoulder. "I'm sure they are completely unaware. They probably need time to get their plan together, and they don't want to be found quickly."

Suddenly, the fireplace flared and glowed green. Gawain Robards' head appeared in the flames.

"Harry, are you there?"

"Yes, sir. Is something wrong?" Harry's voice was apprehensive.

"Yes, very much so. May we come through?"

"Erm—yes. Sure." Harry stepped back, and looked nervously at the others. He had a feeling that their night was about to get much worse. That feeling deepened when Robards stepped out of the flue, followed by The Minister of Magic.

"We're sorry to interrupt your evening. I know all of you young people had plans—where is Épiphanie?" Kingsley's gaze moved about the room, and his pulse quickened, the moment he saw the color drain from Draco's distressed face.

"Sir, erm—there's—erm been an incident," Harry squared his shoulders and faced his boss and The Minister.

"How could you already know that? We've only just been informed ourselves," said Gawain.

"What do you mean? _Informed?_ " Harry looked back and forth between the two men. "We—informed of what, sir?"

"Crabbe and the Notts have escaped from Azkaban."

Draco felt the ground shift beneath his feet and his knees gave way. He grabbed Neville's arm as he gasped for air, his constricted chest burning.

"It can't be! It can't be! It can't be!" he choked. "Dragonfly, where are you?"


	27. Touch Me Fall

" _Expelliarmus!_ " he growled. Épiphanie laughed mirthlessly. She wriggled, hoping to find a more comfortable position. The tight ropes dug into her flesh and she winced. She needed a plan—one that would not only get her out of this situation, but also subdue her captor and keep him from escaping.

"Where is it?" he demanded. The space became awash in light and she saw that they were in some sort of abandoned house. The floors and every surface were covered in dust and dirt. She could feel it scratching her skin. A spider skittered across the floor and out of her line of sight. She sincerely hoped that it wasn't making a home in her hair. Theodore Nott crouched over her, his face contorted in anger.

"You killed Gideon Goyle, didn't you?" she asked. "How'd you do it?" She arched her neck and tried to get a better look around. What little furniture in the room was old and looked as if it had been ripped to shreds by some malevolent creature, and she thought she could see claw marks on the walls.

"There are certain perks to being an animagus, you know? They sealed my windows and put me in that dark hole, but a timely bolt of lightning created a most auspicious portal of egress. No one ever thinks to look up! I only had to be a good boy and bide my time, looking into that beam of light…"

"His throat wasn't slashed. You clawed it to shreds." Épiphanie looked up at him, wondering where he had obtained a wand.

"I have to admit, you're a pretty smart bint," he grinned malevolently.

"I try," she attempted to shrug.

"Where's the wand?" he demanded.

"Why did you kill him?" Épiphanie asked.

"Because the old bastard wouldn't go along with the plan anymore!" he spat. "I couldn't risk him _ratting_ us out! Now, where is the wand?"

"What about Gregory? Why not him too?"

"Please! We never would have included that stupid lump! Even his own father despised him!"

"How did you get a wand?" she asked.

"Stop asking me questions!" he bellowed. " _Crucio!"_

Épiphanie gritted her teeth and bucked in her restraints. She forced herself to count, imagining the pain as the stimulus of Draco's wand delivering delicious pleasure in their private chamber. Closing her eyes, she called upon his image—his face set in concentration—lust in his eyes.

 _One…two…three…four…_

"Mmmm…" The pain morphed into something else—intense and overwhelming pleasure.

 _Dragonfly?_

Épiphanie started. Had she imagined it? "Draco?"

* * *

"How the hell was he able to escape?" Harry stormed. "I thought—didn't they learn anything from—" He broke off.

"From who?" whispered Iolanthe.

"Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban in 1993, by assuming his animagus form," Ginny whispered back. "He was Harry's godfather."

"Oh?"

"Draco's aunt murdered him."

"Oh—oh!"

"Apparently, a recent storm created a breach in the roof above the cell," said Robards, his face red with embarrassment. "We aren't sure how Crabbe and Nott's father escaped. There must have been accomplices."

"Well, how does any of this help us find her?" Draco demanded, leaping to his feet. He fingered the silver band as he began to pace.

"We have Aurors searching Nott's family home, and scouring Knockturn Alley. They've brought Borgin in for questioning, and they're interrogating any last known associates," said Gawain.

Draco suddenly stopped pacing and spun around. "The girls!" he exclaimed. "Weasley! They're with your parents!"

"Go, Weasley! We'll send backup." Gawain sent off several patronuses as Ron disapparated.

* * *

 _Two…three…four…Mmmmm!_

Draco faltered, furrowing his brow. Was he imagining it?

 _Dragonfly?_ "Are you there, my love?" he whispered.

"What was that, Malfoy?" Kingsley asked. Everyone turned to Draco.

"I—she—" He faltered, dropping to one knee.

"Draco?" Neville crouched in front of him, a concerned look on his face.

"He's got her! He's torturing her!" he exclaimed.

Harry rushed to his side. "You have a connection with her?" He knelt beside the other two wizards. "Can you see where she is?"

"I—no!" Draco pressed both palms to his forehead. "She's in pain! Trying to fight it off!"

Harry looked up at all of the expectant faces in the room. "I think I have an idea, but we'll need everyone to clear out. You too, Minister," he said when Kingsley opened his mouth to protest. "Trust me."

"How about we get some tea? All of us could use a bit of sobering up right now," Hermione suggested. Her tone and expression implied a full understanding of what Harry was hoping to accomplish. She and Ginny led the others from the room.

"Neville, stay please," Harry requested. "Help me get him to a chair."

Draco gripped Neville's sleeve tightly, his eyes pressed shut as Harry summoned a chair from across the room and they helped him to sit.

"Draco, the moment you feel her pain begin to subside, you have to close your mind," he instructed.

* * *

"Draco…" Épiphanie panted as the curse lifted.

"Malfoy! Malfoy! _Always Malfoy!_ " Theodore raged. He pointed the wand at her again.

"Control yourself, stupid boy!" a voice somewhere outside of her field of vision snapped. "If we play our cards right, Malfoy and all of his new-found _blood-traitor_ friends will come right to us—perhaps even the Minister himself!"

 _Draco?_

He was gone. Her body was aflame. She struggled to concentrate. So, he wasn't alone. This presented an entirely new set of variables. But if she could connect with Draco…

 _Épiphanie._

"Draco?"

"See how she begs for him?" A second wizard spoke now. "Doesn't seem such a powerful witch now, does she?"

"Theodore!" a third wizard barked. "Leave her. Rabastan is right. Let them come to us. By the time the sun rises in the morrow, they will be frantic to have her back for the wedding. Come. Rest."

"She can't be trusted, father! I swear. She's tricky!"

"Fine! If you insist, Rowle can keep watch. Come!" Theodore's footsteps faded away. "Don't take your eyes off of her—and Thorfinn— _don't_ touch!" the older wizard growled. "Not yet, anyway!" His voice dripped with viciousness. She wriggled in an effort to see the other man, but he carefully stood out of her line of sight as well.

* * *

"You have to break your connection with her, Draco," said Harry.

"Let me try to connect with her. She can read me too. She's done it before. Trust me," Harry insisted.

Draco heaved a sigh. He took another deep breath and focused on creating a barrier. His mind's eye filled with clouds and Épiphanie's image faded from his mind's eye.

Harry paced the room a moment. He sat down in a chair facing the wall and focused on his friend, calling the witch to the fore of his mind.

 _Épiphanie._

 _Draco?_

 _Look around the room again._

Something about the room was familiar—derelict and dusty. Harry had the feeling that he had been there before. Nott crouched above her, his wand at her throat. She wasn't in London.

 _Harry?_

 _Yes. Why aren't you fighting back?_

 _I don't know how many there are._

There was someone else speaking. He couldn't see him. They were planning to set a trap.

 _"_ _Rowle can keep watch. Come!" Theodore's footsteps faded away. "Don't take your eyes off of her—and Thorfinn—_ don't _touch!"_

He concentrated on her gaze as she looked around the room, angling for a view of the man standing watch, but Harry didn't need to see him. He knew the name—Thorfinn Rowle had been presumed among the dead after the Battle. He focused on her surroundings as she looked around. A broken bed with a half-collapsed moth-eaten canopy and claw marks on the walls appeared in his vision.

 _Épiphanie you're a genius! Keep doing what you're doing and try to hang in there! We're coming!_

Épiphanie struggled to keep up her façade. Her limbs were going numb, but she had to bide her time. She ran her tongue over her lips. The room was dark again, and there was a noise somewhere behind her. She turned her head. Someone was walking slowly around her. She inched away, but he grabbed her leg, dragging her across the floor. His weight settled across her pelvis.

"You know, you _were_ a good kisser. Too bad, Potter and Malfoy had to fuck up our little rendezvous on the tower that night." He whispered in her ear, grinding his hips against hers. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She bit down hard, drawing blood.

"Fuck you, Nott! If you were any kind of wizard at all, you would have _kept_ my wand the first time instead of giving it up to Lucius!" she snarled, bucking her hips as she tried to wriggle away from him. He slapped her hard across the face.

"Fucking bint!"

She spit in his face. "Punk-ass bitch!"

He hit her again.

"You're a piece of shit wizard, Nott! I swear to Salazar, you've got one more time to hit me, and see if I don't fuck your ass up!"

* * *

The group in the kitchen gave a start when Harry burst through the door followed by Draco and Neville.

"I know where they are! We have to move now!"

"Where are we going?" Everyone at the table leapt to their feet, wands in hand.

"The Shrieking Shack!"

They landed on the high street in Hogsmeade.

"Right then. We'll—" Robards began, but Harry cut him off.

"Sir, if I may? Rabastan LeStrange and Thorfinn Rowle are their accomplices. We can't risk them not going for the kill if they're startled. Épiphanie can protect herself, but she's aware of the balance of power. She's waiting for us to help tip the scales in her favor.

"Are you sure, Potter?" the older Auror asked.

"She's a legilimens! It's how I knew that she was being tortured. Harry managed to connect with her too and discover that she's there!" Draco pointed out, emphatically.

"Sir, it will work. If Malfoy, Longbottom and I take the secret passage from the castle grounds into the shack and the rest of you surround it, and cast an anti-apparition charm, they'll have nowhere to run."

"I'm going in with you," said Kingsley. Harry gave him a look, but decided that it wasn't worth it to argue with The Minister. He knew that Kingsley was combat hardened, and would not be swayed from saving his daughter this time around. He nodded. "We'll send a patronus out when we're in position."

The group separated, Neville led Harry, Draco and Kingsley onto the school grounds and across to the Whomping Willow, where Harry immobilized the tree and pressed the knot in the wood to reveal the passage. The four wizards found themselves crawling through the passage, all of them now fully grown men. When they reached the entrance to the shack, Kingsley sent his lynx patronus out to the high street where its light could be seen by their compatriots without likely alerting the wizards inside. Harry held up his hand, and then pointed to his forehead before he whispered.

" _Nox!"_ The tunnel went dark, and they all held their breath, listening to the faint rumble of voices above them and the occasional footfalls of someone walking across the rotten floorboards.

 _"_ _You know, you were a good kisser. Too bad, Potter and Malfoy had to fuck up our little rendezvous on the tower that night." He whispered in her ear, grinding his hips against hers. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She bit down hard, drawing blood._

 _"_ _Fuck you, Nott! If you were any kind of wizard at all, you would have kept my wand the first time instead of giving it up to Lucius!" she snarled, bucking her hips as she tried to wriggle away from him. He slapped her hard across the face._

 _"_ _Fucking bint!"_

 _She spit in his face. "Punk-ass bitch!"_

 _He hit her again._

 _"_ _You're a piece of shit wizard, Nott. You got one more time to hit me, and see if I don't fuck your ass up!"_

Harry had to bite his lip to stifle the angry and horrified gasp that tried to issue forth from his throat. He couldn't risk upsetting Draco and causing him to act rashly. He could see the tangible signs of her anger and magic mounting.

 _We're here, Épiphanie. We move on your signal._

 _"_ _Crucio!"_ Theodore hissed. Épiphanie bucked hard against the ropes binding her.

Harry winced, biting back another gasp.

Épiphanie squeezed her eyes shut, her face contorted in a painful grimace as she fought to channel the pain. She gasped, searching for the man for whom she was the immortal beloved. Finally, Draco's face swam into her consciousness.

Draco gasped, gripping his wand tightly. Épiphanie was back. He could see Nott above her, pointing his wand, a malicious glare on his face as he tortured her.

 _Touch me there, Draco!_

 _What? Fight back, my beloved!_

 _I'm trying! Touch me there, PLEASE! Oh, God, PLEASE!_

Épiphanie focused on her lover, until Draco was the only one who filled her vision. "Oh, God! _Please!_ " she cried out.

"Just look how you scream for that pathetic, cowardly excuse for a Slytherin!" Theodore spat. "Where _is_ your precious Malfoy? He abandoned you when it counted!"

* * *

Draco felt a burning in his left arm, and suppressed a cry of surprise, the sound coming out as a whimper.

"Wha—?" He snatched up his sleeve in panic, and stared at it in disbelief.

"Draco!" she screamed, arching her back, as she channeled the pain into deliciously sinful sensations. She pressed her back into the floor and forced the agony into arousal, focusing only on the stimulation in her pelvis.

Draco touched his wand to the _M_ on the heart-shaped mark and the intertwined serpents that wrapped around the cross bisecting it, began to writhe. The searing burn, as with the mark that previously lived there ceased, and a gentle warmth coursed up his arm, settling in his chest.

" _Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes! Yes!"_ she screamed, her cries issuing forth in a sibilant hiss. Theodore drew back in horror.

 _Thank you, my beloved._

Theodore stared at Épiphanie. "W-what? D-did you?" He stumbled backwards, toppling over a table.

" _Oh, Theodore, you've been a bad boy!"_ The unrecognizable voice whispered _. "Again! Now, I'm going to have to ruin you!"_ She smiled up at him.

"What's going on in here? What's the matter with you, boy?" Crabbe entered the room.

 _Tell Harry to get ready._

"Harry, get ready!" Draco whispered urgently.

"No one moves until I say 'go'!" Harry murmured under his breath.

"She-she's a—a p-parselmouth!" Theodore stammered.

"Nonsense! You're tired, and your mind is playing tricks on you."

" _Another doubter! Don't you know that I_ am _the most powerful witch of my age? Why wouldn't Papa Damballah have gifted me with such a skill?"_ She laughed.

 _Now, beloved._

At Draco's signal, Harry pointed his wand to his throat and spoke in a whispery, snakelike voice that echoed into the darkness. The wizards outside the shack gave a shudder.

"Dear Merlin, I hope that's Harry," Ron muttered.

" _You will bring no more destruction and mayhem into our world!_ " Harry exclaimed. " _There are no second chances!_ "

Épiphanie laughed almost maniacally as she glared up at the dumbfounded wizards.

"They're _here!_ " She sang, resuming her normal voice.

In the next room, Rowle, LeStrange, and the elder Nott started.

"It—It can't be!" Rowle nervously gripped his wand.

Crabbe ran into the room, his face ashen. The other three wizards looked at him warily.

"Did you hear it?" he panted. "She—she—she's one too!" He pointed back to the other room.

" _This war ends tonight!_ " Harry hissed.

"It's a trick! It's a trick!" LeStrange exclaimed.

"What is he saying?" Nott cried.

Épiphanie continued to laugh, her eyes locked on Theodore. The table behind which he stood began to levitate.

 _Restis Incantamentum! "Relashio!"_ The ropes fell away from her and she pushed herself up.

"Oh, Theodore! What have you done?" She rolled her shoulders and stood.

"No! You don't have—where is the wand!" He pointed his wand at her. Épiphanie laughed, and gave a shrug.

"I suppose it's right where I left it when you spirited me away with your little dumb-assed effigy!" She stalked towards him.

"Stupefy!" he cried, frantically. Nothing happened. She continued to move slowly towards him. "Crucio!" still nothing. She waved her hand and the table flew out of the way, crashing against the wall.

"Wanna try again? Go ahead," she teased.

Theodore backed against the wall. There was an explosion and curses began to fly in the next room, blinding lights flashing in the mayhem. They'd been ambushed.

"Sectumsempra!" Why were none of his spells working? What was happening?

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Theodore's wand flew into Épiphanie's hand, and she snapped it in two. "I told you I was gonna fuck your ass up!" She launched herself at him, her fist connecting with his jaw.

* * *

" _Bombarda Maxima!_ " Harry shouted. The entrance to the passage exploded, and the surprised wizards threw themselves out of the way.

Harry launched himself into the room, flattening himself against the floor and rolling to the side to avoid the jet of green that barely missed him. Draco crouched in the passage with the others.

" _Expulso!_ " He cried, pointing his wand into the space away from where Harry had just dived.

Plaster and splintered wood crashed down, and they used the momentary distraction to rush the room, ducking the debris. LeStrange was the first to recover from the explosion. He threw a curse in Draco's direction.

"You! _Traitorous bastard!_ " he screamed. Draco blocked the spell.

"What's the matter, uncle? Disappointed that you weren't invited to the wedding? But of course, how can you receive one when you're supposed to be _dead?_ " he taunted the man.

"Fucking _blood-traitor!_ After all that my brother and his wife did for the cause! If you and that bint hadn't taken the little brat, we would have been victorious once again!" He fired a killing curse. Draco leapt behind an upturned table.

" _Sectumsempra!_ " The spell left his lips before he could consider the depth of rage that had impelled him to act. He sliced his wand through the air, and the wizard went down, gazing in astonishment at the blood pouring from his severed body. Draco raised his wand to strike again at the man who dared threaten his family.

In the next instant, Kingsley had grabbed Draco's collar and thrown him to the floor, just in time to avoid Crabbe's killing curse. Kingsley aimed a knockback jinx, throwing the wizard over a table.

"How's it feel to be a fucking shit squib?" Épiphanie screamed as she clawed Theodore's face, and kneed him in the groin. He doubled over. "C'mon! Fight like a muggle, bitch!"

She hit him again, throwing all of her weight into the punch. Her fist connected with his eye, and through the pain in her own knuckles, she felt bone cracking beneath his flesh. Theodore flung himself at her, his hands at her throat. They fell to the floor with a crash. She saw stars as her head bounced off the hard wood.

"What did you do to me?" he screamed, squeezing his fingers around her throat, his knee in her chest. "I will fucking kill you, bitch!" He glared at her, his voice hysterical as he watched her struggle to breathe, clawing at him. The golden necklace that hung about his neck came away in her hand. She clutched his wrists, spots appearing before her eyes. She reached up and pushed her palm against his face.

"It is _over!_ " she choked. " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

The room glowed green and Theodore's protest hung unspoken in his throat as he collapsed in a heap beside her.

* * *

The other wizards barely had time to register the blinding green flash that flickered from the other room, before the entire structure began to shake. Neville, Harry, Draco and Kingsley felt themselves dragged into the adjoining room by an unseen force. They scrambled to their feet, wands still pointed at the remaining dark wizards, who were renewing their efforts. Draco felt Épiphanie's wand slide from his pocket. Crabbe blasted the table, over which he'd fallen, to pieces and hurled a curse in their direction. Before any of the defenders could react, Épiphanie soared over them, her wand pointed, as she floated in midair.

There was a billowing roar and a flaming chimaera burst from her wand, swooping down on the dark wizards, its scorching tail licking at the floorboards and splintered debris. Rowle, Crabbe and the elder Nott's screams were barely audible above the roar of the flames that consumed them.

The shack groaned and shook, flashes of green appearing between the slats of the boards covering the windows. The acrid smell of cursed smoke filled the noses of the wizards surrounding the house before the disturbance inside suddenly died out.

"Please be okay! Please be okay!" Ginny nervously chanted to herself.

Finally, a silvery lynx appeared in the tall grass surrounding the shack. "We are safe, lift the wards. The threat has been neutralized."

Harry, Kingsley, Neville and Draco stood transfixed as the flames ceased before the structure could be ignited, and the witch responsible for the decimation calmly descended to the ground with the grace of a ballerina. They stared at her in awe as she turned to them.

"Merlin and Morganna!" Kingsley exclaimed. "Surely this witch could not be my progeny! My gods, child!"

Épiphanie rushed into her father's arms. "I'm okay, Papa. I'm fine." She murmured into his broad chest. "I told you that I could take care of myself." She stepped out of his crushing embrace, only to find herself pulled into Draco's arms.

"You've taken _years_ off my life, Dragonfly! Y-you can fly!"

"Looks that way," she shrugged.

"You _truly_ frighten me, beloved!"

"Draco, you should take Épiphanie and apparate out of here. We want to keep your involvement in this as quiet as possible."

"They'll give _you_ credit for the whole thing, no doubt!" Draco teased, though his smile never reached his eyes. After all, two wizards lay dead at their feet and three others had been completely decimated.

"Don't you have a wedding to prepare for?"

"And you guys had better be on time!" Épiphanie teased. "Don't make my dad late either! Because if you think Molly Weasley is bad, you should see Angelique Shacklebolt when she's pissed." She took Draco's hand and they disappeared with a soft pop.


	28. Save the Date

** _Not too sure I correctly worded this, but I couldn't find a proper example, so…please allow artistic latitude. (And if you know how it should be done, write a review. I promise to update with thanks)_

 **The Earl of Worthing and The Countess of Worthing**

 **request the honour of your presence**

 **at the marriage of their daughter**

 **The Lady** **Épiphanie Marie Katherine Duminy de Glapion-Shacklebolt**

 **to**

 **The Earl of Salisbury**

 **Saturday, the twentieth of June**

 **2002**

 **At half past three o'clock**

 **The Grand Conservatory**

 **Malfoy Manor**

 **Reception to follow**

 **RSVP**

* * *

Épiphanie stood in the spray of her shower, scrubbing the dirt and debris from her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look at the detritus as it washed down the drain, certain as she was that the spider she had encountered was definitely spinning away in the muck around her feet. She carded her hands through her long mane and rinsed the shampoo from her hair. As she soaped up her skin with one of the luxurious natural sea sponges that the house elves always supplied in a well-appointed basket of toiletries, she heard the door to the bath open.

"I'll be out in a bit, Maman! I promise!" she called out. Angelique had only somewhat accepted her story of going a bit overboard at her hen night as explanation for the cuts and bruises on her face. Épiphanie assured her that a few healing spells and a nice glamour would cover any evidence of her escapades, and finally had to perform the spells for her mother to finally be convinced. However, it wasn't her mother chivvying her along, but Draco, stalking towards the shower, dropping his clothes to the floor as he moved closer. Épiphanie spun around when the etched glass door opened.

"You know we aren't supposed to see one another before the wedding," she said, matter-of-factly. Draco growled in response, and pressed her against the wall, crushing his lips against hers. She pushed him away, gently. "My mother will be here any minute! She'll hear us! We're going to be late!"

"It's our wedding," Draco muttered between kisses, while he continued to grope her soap-slicked body. "They start when we're ready!"

He grabbed her ass and lifted her onto his hard cock. She locked her legs around his waist and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing in the platinum strands that clung to his back and shoulders, as he fucked her hungrily.

"Oh, my god, Yes!" she screamed, as she forgot all about the numerous guests and staff about the house on her special day. "I love you, Draco Malfoy!"

"I love you more, Épiphanie Glapion-Shacklebolt Malfoy!"


	29. Enchanted Manors and Magic Kingdoms

_**According to J.K. Rowling, the exchange rate of 1 Galleon=£4.97 So G7000 is roughly equal to £35,000 and G250,000 would be about £1.2 million._

* * *

"The Wizarding Wireless Network is pleased to bring you a special broadcast of the Wizarding Wireless Network News, live from Malfoy Manor, where the wedding of Épiphanie Duminy de Glapion-Shacklebolt, daughter of The Minister of Magic and Draco Malfoy, co-owner and captain of the Wiltshire Dragons Quidditch Club will take place in just a little while. I am your host, Charlotte Danes."

Witches and wizards alike crowded around wireless sets in sitting rooms, pubs, and shops all over the United Kingdom, the United States and parts of Europe, as well as outside of the Wizarding Wireless Network headquarters in Hogsmeade, to tune in to the biggest social event since the wedding of Harry and Ginevra Potter a year earlier.

"Guests have been arriving at the estate in a steady stream. As expected, with the number of high-ranking officials and international dignitaries on the guest list, security is very tight. Aurors and private security wizards are verifying the enchanted invitations of every guest. Revealing spells are being cast before anyone may enter the estate. Mr. Babijide Akingbade, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, has just arrived with his spouse. His retinue has just boarded one of the carriages that are carrying the guests from the main gates to the venue near the heart of the estate! And here is President of the Magical Congress of the United States, Amy Chan with Raymond MacAvoy, headmaster of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!

The bride and groom have been making headlines since the Minister announced the arrival of his heretofore unknown daughter in Britain, and her intention to enroll at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1998. And the surprises and scandals kept on coming, beginning with the startling revelation that The Minister's Daughter had been sorted into Slytherin House! The wizarding world would be stunned once again when Miss Shacklebolt was photographed performing death-defying broom stunts with Mr. Malfoy, and turned up later on the arm of the former Death Eater, strolling down the high street in Hogsmeade, and toasting with none other than Harry Potter! If that wasn't enough to set tongues wagging, the crème de la crème of magical society was _agog_ to witness the couple waltzing the night away at the famed and exclusive Sacred Twenty-Eight annual ball, where The Lady even took a turn with the infamous and now late Lucius Malfoy!

Representatives of the Malfoy Estate maintain that the groom refused to accept a dowry, and the bride's family has declined to release any information regarding the marriage contract, but sources close to Gringotts estimate the sum of the bride-wealth to be _well_ above The Lady's weight in gold. Some estimates have the figure in the tens of thousands, while others place the number closer to a quarter of a million Galleons. Either way, the Malfoy estate will hardly suffer the loss of gold and assets, particularly given the amount of revenue the bride has generated for her future husband's Quidditch club during the last two seasons, in ticket sales and product endorsements. We also understand that Pilliwinkle's Playthings has petitioned for exclusive rights to sell a limited edition bride figurine, though rumour has it that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will likely win that contract!

Our sources have confirmed that the Golden Trio _will_ be among VIP guests at today's event, but exactly who will be in the bridal party has yet to be revealed. Oh! It appears that the party is about to make their appearance. The doors of the house are opening! And Draco Malfoy is exiting the house with his mother and daughters. You will remember the couple making notorious headlines in the exciting rescue of both girls just last spring, and officially adopting them a few months later before even the announcement that the couple was betrothed.

Oh! The girls are absolutely adorable! Seven-year-old Grace and Three-year-old Artemis, a metamorphagus who is sporting bright purple hair today, are climbing into a silver carriage along with Draco and his mother Narcissa. This is Narcissa's first public appearance since the trial and acquittal of the Malfoy family, following the war. And the silver carriage is heading down the lane.

Ladies and Gentlemen! Ah! Malfoy has certainly pulled out _all_ the stops for this day! A _grand_ coach has just pulled to a stop in front of the house! We can now positively confirm the rumours of the Malfoys' past connections to royalty! The antique black coach is gilded in goblin-made silver and bears a magnificent standard of the Malfoy coat of arms. The silver-framed lanterns at the fore and rear of the carriage have etched glass panels which, I am told display the crest of Slytherin House and are perched upon ornate dragons. The doors have opened again, and—yes—the bride and her parents have emerged! It appears that the coach has been deliberately positioned to obscure the bride from view as she is helped into the coach by—it looks like—yes Hermione Granger-Weasley and Ginevra Potter! The bride's retinue has begun to move. I'll now turn you over to my fellow correspondent, Lee Jordan at the Grand Conservatory. Lee?"

* * *

"Thank you, Charlotte. Ladies and gentlemen I am astounded and amazed to have a ringside seat at the event of the decade. Many of us were on the edge of our seats in the hopes of receiving the opportunity to witness the marriage of The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, and Ginevra Weasley, known veteran of the Battle of Hogwarts, but their romantic and private wedding has nothing on the practically _royal_ affair that is the Shacklebolt-Malfoy wedding about to take place today! The Grand Conservatory is _filled_ with a veritable who's-who of the wizarding world! What is _most_ shocking to all in attendance is that the vast majority of attendees in the _groom's_ reserved seats are _not_ taken by Slytherins! This may well be due to the fact that so many of those who were once part of Draco Malfoy's inner circle are now either deceased or serving life sentences in Azkaban prison. However, besides the seats reserved for the mother of the groom, Narcissa Malfoy, and her sister, Andromeda Tonks, those seats are occupied by Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and—well, just about the entire Weasley clan, you might as well say. There's certainly more ginger there than any other! How comfortable will Narcissa Malfoy be, seated among so many Gryffindors? Even Blaise Zabini, who had once been considered quite close to the groom, finds himself seated rather far beyond other notable attendees, including the members of the Wiltshire Dragons Quidditch Club!

Ah, Charlotte! The wedding party is arriving now! The first carriage is carrying the groom, his mother and the couple's daughters. Narcissa is elegant as always in robes of silver lace with green trim. She is escorted to her seat by Dean Thomas. The children have been taken in hand by their devoted house elf. I understand that her name is Pippy, and I am surprised to say how wonderfully and unusually _clean_ the elf's apparel seems to be!

We are still ever reminded of Lucius Malfoy on first appearance, as we take in the long white-blond hair that now falls over Draco's shoulders, and today is no exception. The groom's bespoke attire is certain to become the standard to which all others will aspire. Here to give us a detailed description of the groom's robes is Alonzo Twilfit, executive designer and tailor of Twilfit & Tattings, Diagon Alley. Mr. Twilfit, what can you tell us about the groom's look today?"

"Well, as you well know, Twilfit & Tattings uses only the finest materials and techniques for our exclusive customers such as Mr. Malfoy. We have, as per usual, kept to his preference for robes with fit and flare. Mr. Malfoy wears breeches of fine Mikado fabric in a shimmering grey, and adorned with custom buttons featuring the Malfoy crest. His waistcoat is antique satin in Slytherin green and features the imperial dragonfly motif, which has become a particular favorite of Mr. Malfoy's. You may remember a similar design on his 2001 Sacred Twenty-Eight robes. It is the outer robes, however, which steal the day! I must say, they were our most ambitious creation to date! The ice grey silk jacquard is hand-woven and features the bouquets of lily-of-the-valley along the lapels and skirt, which gently sweeps the ground just a bit!"

"It is quite a remarkable ensemble, to be sure! Thank you for joining us today. That was Alonzo Twilfit of Twilfit & Tattings…And here are the bride's attendants, stepping out of the next carriage! Yes, Charlotte, The Lady's attendants are Hermione Granger-Weasley and Ginevra Potter! The ladies are entering the private marquee that has been prepared for the wedding party. Oh, look! There is Edward Lupin, son of the heroic fallen Aurors, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. It appears that he will be the ring bearer this afternoon! Young Master Lupin is accompanied by Mr. Neville Longbottom, Hogwarts professor of Herbology, who we have just learned is the best man! Whoever would have thought? Yes, you heard it here, ladies and gentlemen. The union of two of the most famous mages in postbellum history to come out of Slytherin House will be attended to _entirely_ by Gryffindors! And the bridal coach is making its way up the path. You are right, Charlotte! It is a thing of beauty, certainly rivalling the coaches of the royal family! The minister's wife is exiting the carriage. The Lady Worthing is resplendent in a backless gown of chiffon, trimmed in lace. Merlin, The Minister is one _lucky_ man! And here he is! Minister Shacklebolt has foregone his trademark indigo robes for absolutely amazing traditional dress robes in white with intricately embroidered Adinkra symbols along the lapels in shimmering silver.

The orchestra has taken up their instruments and the wedding party is lining up. Matron of Honor, Granger-Weasley and Best Man, Longbottom are the first down the aisle, followed by bride's matron Potter, escorted by Dean Thomas. The ladies carry simple bouquets of calla and lily-of-the-valley. Lilies are certainly the flora of the day, as the entire conservatory is decorated in the delicate flower, along with swags of honeysuckle. Young Lady Artemis is escorted down the aisle by Teddy Lupin. How adorable is that, folks? Both youngsters are sporting manes of purple—oh, wait! Now it's green! And here comes Lady Grace! Her smile is absolutely infectious as she skips down the aisle, tossing rose petals in her wake.

And the guests have risen to their feet in anticipation of the bride's entrance now, Charlotte. The officiating wizard has taken his place at the head of the aisle. The bride is stepping down now, and the crowd is abuzz with oohs and ahhs! Can you hear them Charlotte?"

* * *

"I can hear them, Lee. I'm here with Madam Malkin, who has designed just about every gown and dress robe that The Lady Épiphanie has worn throughout the seasons, since her arrival four years ago. She was commissioned under the strictest secrecy to create this majestic gown that you see here today! Madam Malkin, please tell us what the bride is wearing today."

"Thank you, Miss Banes. The Lady is quite statuesque and wears practically anything well. What I attempted to do with this design, after speaking to the bride and her mother, was create a look that reflects her personal preference for pure white, robes that are not constricting, and the preference of both her and the groom for dragonflies and lilies. I do believe that the result is something quite stunning. Her gown is Mikado fabric with a scalloped bodice that we have edged with pearls and round-cut emeralds."

"Emeralds!"

"Oh, yes! You will see that they match the _magnificent_ emerald pendant that the bride wears. I hear it cost upwards of seven thousand galleons! As to the outer robes, they are made of redback spider gossamer, woven with the imperial dragonfly motif, and edged in scalloped lace, also trimmed in pearls and emeralds. The gown has a chapel train, while the robes are traditional cathedral length, as is her veil. Again, the veil, which is held in place by a diamond and pearl tiara once belonging to her grandmother, Fidelia Shacklebolt, is also of redback spider gossamer—the highest quality available!"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Charlotte, but the bride has just taken The Minister's hand, and is beginning to make her way down the aisle! And what a vision it is! The bride and her father are preceded down the aisle by two of the magnificent albino peacocks for which the estate is famous. The sun is high in the sky and streaming through the glass of the conservatory as if it was a beam of light just for her! The Lady's steps are sure and it appears that she wears a smile beneath her veil, eyes locked upon the wizard at the end of the aisle. The Minister's face is stoic; I think he may very well be holding back tears, Charlotte!

They've reached the end of the aisle now, and—yes, there is a tear at the eye of this quietly powerful war veteran and top government official as he lifts her veil. Oh, _my word!_ The bride is perhaps the most radiant we've laid eyes upon in some time! Not even a veela would be able to outshine the future Mrs. Draco Malfoy in this moment. Speaking of Draco Malfoy, the groom wears the most genuine smile many have ever seen on the face of the Slytherin, whom we all know is famous for his derisive and ever calculating smirk. The bride has passed her bouquet to the matron of honor and they have taken one another's hands, eyes locked upon each other. It seems that their auras have become one, Charlotte! This couple was made for each other. Rumour has it that even their patronuses are complementary! And now the vows are made. Let's listen!"

* * *

"As you stand before your families and guests today, you affirm that you make this vow, freely considered and agreed upon in the marriage contract. Is that so, Miss Glapion-Shacklebolt?"

"It is."

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"It is."

"Very good. Draco Lucien Malfoy, will you take this witch, Épiphanie Marie Katherine Duminy de Glapion-Shacklebolt as your wife, will you pledge to share your life openly with her, to speak the truth to her, in love? Will you promise to honor and tenderly care for her, to encourage her fulfillment as an individual through all the changes in your lives?"

"I will."

"Épiphanie Marie Katherine Duminy de Glapion-Shacklebolt, will you have this wizard, Draco Lucien Malfoy, to be your wedded husband, to live together in marriage, will you love him, comfort him, honor him and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, so long as you both shall live?"

"I will."

"And now, may we have the rings?...Place the ring upon her finger."

"With this ring, I pledge my unwavering devotion to you—the center of my life, now flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone, from now until the day that you are me and I am you, immortal beloved." Sniffle.

"And now, place the ring upon his finger."

"With this ring, I pledge my unwavering devotion to you—the keeper of my heart, now beating in cadence with yours, from now until the day that you are me and I am you, et dabo vobis cor meum in aeternum. (and forever will you hold my heart)"

"Take up your wands and touch them to your partner's ring."

"Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom have wands in hand now, and they are about to seal their bond! The groom has placed his wand upon the bride's ring, and she has done the same. The officiant is waving his wand."

"In witness of all those present, seal your bond. _Unita Semper!_ "

"And the rings are glowing exceptionally bright, ladies and gentlemen. This is an extraordinarily pure bond!"

"By the power vested in me, by the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride!"

"And what a kiss it is, ladies and gentlemen! Oh, by Merlin! There must be hundreds of dragonflies appearing throughout the conservatory now! They seem to be dancing about the couple. Charlotte, how they shimmer!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my sincere honor and privilege to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Draco Lucien Malfoy!"

"I am sure that you can hear the thunderous applause, ladies and gentlemen, as the couple has turned, all smiles! Oh, would you look at that! They each have taken the hand of one daughter and the entire family is proceeding up the aisle as the shimmering dragonflies precede them! What an amazing day! What a beautiful ceremony! This is one to be talked about for _years_ to come. Those in attendance here today will certainly have some memories to brag about! For the Wizarding Wireless Network, I'm Lee Jordan!"

"And I'm Charlotte Banes! Thank you for tuning in to this special broadcast of Wizarding Wireless Network News! Good day!"

* * *

The _Daily Prophet_ , _Witch Weekly,_ and _New York Ghost_ all ran special editions featuring a full-color section of photos, showing the newlyweds dancing with one another, their parents and children. There was a photo of the bride presenting the groom with a gift of a stunning bridal portrait painted by up-and-coming wizard artist and groomsman, Dean Thomas. The papers quoted guests as saying that perhaps the greatest surprise of the afternoon was the amazing violin serenade that the groom played for his new wife. "Many guests were shocked to tears by the virtuoso performance."

Épiphanie smiled serenely at her new husband. She knew that the tears she saw shimmering in the eyes of many of the guests—most of whom were Hogwarts alumni—were due to recognition of the one responsible for the ethereal melodies which saw them through their darkest days, and she loved him all the more for his acknowledgement of that.

* * *

"Madame Malfoy, welcome to your new home!" Draco waved his wand as he swept Épiphanie off her feet. The double doors of the master suite swung open with a flourish and he carried her into the sitting room. She looked around the room as they moved through it. There was something very familiar about the French neoclassical furnishings that made up the room. Unlike the rest of the Manor, these items had a definite air of shabby chic.

Draco waved his wand once more and the doors of the bedchamber swung open. When they stepped across the threshold, Épiphanie lost her breath. She had expected to find another four-poster bed of carved wood with heavy draperies around it. Instead, there was a magnificent bed with art nouveau influences evident in the graceful curves of the wrought iron that twisted upwards to support a canopy draped in filmy white gossamer. The bedding was resplendent blue-green silk damask that featured what was clearly the new trademark of the couple—imperial dragonflies and lily-of-the-valley.

"My god, Draco! It's beautiful!" she murmured.

"There's more." He nodded upward.

"What?" Épiphanie looked up. Between the two cast chandeliers, the ceiling was embossed in perfectly minute detail, the vévé of Marie Laveau. Épiphanie let out a gasp of amazement.

"You now own the heart of a dragon, my lady. I will forever protect you." Draco pressed his lips to hers.

When they were lying in one another's arms later that evening, she gazed up at the talisman through the diaphanous fabric.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

"I did. You have transformed my life and this Manor in so many ways. This is your home now. You _are_ the mistress of Malfoy Manor, Lady Malfoy." He kissed her shoulder.

"The furniture in the sitting room—I couldn't figure that out at first. You wanted it to remind me of home—of New Orleans, didn't you?" Épiphanie looked up at Draco. He smiled.

"Guilty as charged." They lay silently for several moments before Draco spoke again. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?" she asked.

"This." He held out his left arm, palm up showing the mark of the talisman in the place of the Dark Mark. "No one has ever been able to remove the Dark Mark. No one."

"I don't know, my love," she replied, honestly. "Clearly, there is still magic out there that we don't know or understand. I probably should have told you that my own mark is not muggle made." Épiphanie took his hand and kissed the underside of his wrist.

"It isn't?" he lifted his head to look at her. "How did you get it then?"

"I woke from a trance, during a particularly drawn out ritual and it was there. I noticed it the next day. Ma Mère believes that the spirits blessed me with it for protection. I guess that's how I manage to keep getting out of these scrapes I find myself in," she smiled. "I suspect that now it is a way of showing how we are connected and completing our bond." She kissed it again. Draco drew a sharp breath. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"No! It—it—" His heart skipped a beat. Suddenly Épiphanie drew a breath and arched her back. "You feel it too, don't you? Look!"

She stared at the mark, and saw the beating of the heart in cadence with hers, as the serpents undulated. She sat up, and lifted her hair aside. Draco ran his fingertips over the moving mark upon her exposed back, feeling the pulse radiating up his arm and into the warmth of his chest.

"You really are me, and I am you!"

* * *

"You can't be serious! Draco scoffed. "Muggles consistently amaze me!"

"Oh _c'mon,_ Drake! I thought you'd get a kick out of it. It's our _honeymoon!"_ Épiphanie tugged on his arm, pulling him through the gates towards Cinderella's castle.

"I'd do anything for _you_ , beloved. But Honestly! They call _this_ a _magic_ kingdom? _"_ He reluctantly followed her through the throngs of children, whom he thought looked at them oddly as they went along their way through Disney World.

After the first hour, Draco found that he particularly enjoyed the fast moving roller-coaster rides, and dragged Épiphanie back around to stand in—or confound their way to the front of—the line for second and third treats of some rides.

"What is so funny?" she demanded, as they sat in one of the park's refreshment stands on the second day of their trip having lunch.

"This _Sleeping Beauty_ story! Maleficent wasn't an evil old fairy! She wasn't even a _woman!_ " he chortled. "I wonder how the muggles got hold of this story!"

"Shhh! So, you're going to tell me that the story is real?" She stared at him skeptically.

"Well, not as it is told here, that's for sure, but yes, it's quite real—or at least legend."

"And?"

"And, they say no one really knows why Elizabeth I never married."

"Aw, come on, Drake! Don't make me drag it out of you!"

"Well, remember that I told you Lucius Malfoy I was one of the Queen's many suitors? Unfortunately for him, she only had eyes for Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester. When she turned him down, he jinxed her to prevent her from choosing Dudley or any other suitor."

"Get out of town!" Épiphanie exclaimed with a laugh. "What is it with you Malfoys named Lucius? If we ever have a son, promise me that you will not name him Lucius III!"

"Never, my beloved. Actually, I'm rather fond of Scorpius myself." He sipped his drink.

Épiphanie snorted. "Yeah, we'll discuss _that_ when the time comes."

"You don't like it?" he stared at her in shock.

"Well it's—" she began, but they were interrupted by a little girl and her mother who approached the table.

"Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt, I'm sure you don't have much time for a lunch break, but my daughter _really_ wants a picture with you!" the woman gushed.

Épiphanie and Draco looked at one another in confusion. Was this woman or her daughter a witch? Could they have recognized them from the massive media coverage of the wedding and their Quidditch careers? One of the reasons Épiphanie insisted on a muggle honeymoon was to avoid the fans and press that they would surely encounter in any magical destination.

"Us?" Épiphanie asked. "Are you sure you know who we are?"

"Oh, yes! It's okay that you're not properly dressed. Here, stand here, muffin!" The woman pushed her daughter in front of their table. The newlyweds shrugged and smiled in some bewilderment for the photo. "Thank you so, much! We won't take up any more of your time!" She herded the little girl off, pulling on the zipper of her fanny pack as they walked away.

"Bye, Jasmine!" the girl called.

"What did she call you?" Draco asked. Before Épiphanie could respond, an unpleasant looking man wearing a suit with a badge that read STAFF on the breast pocket of his blazer hurried up to their table.

" _What_ are you doing here!" he demanded, haughtily.

"I _beg_ your pardon!" Draco glared at the man, clearly affronted by his tone.

"And why aren't you dressed! You know you're not allowed to dine inside the park! You _know_ that! And you—" he pointed at Draco. "Is that stubble on your chin? Be sure to shave before you come back out. As for you, missy—" He turned to Épiphanie now. She raised brow. " _French fries?_ You _are_ aware that your clothing will not be let out for weight gain—"

"Just a _moment!_ " Draco began to rise to his feet. Épiphanie grabbed his arm and began to laugh.

"Wait, Draco, _I_ think I know what's going on here," she chuckled.

"I fail to see the humor in this! We have an image to maintain here at the Magic Kingdom. I'll have to report you. Names, please—and badges." He pulled out a pen and a small pad.

"Sir, I think you're confused. We're not cast members." Épiphanie giggled.

"I—what? But you look—"

"Like Princess Jasmine, right?" She turned to Draco. "And honey, I'll bet they think you're Captain John Smith from Pocahontas."

"My wife and I are on our _honeymoon_ , and we have traveled all the way from England on this holiday. I am personally affronted by your tone, sir."

"You don't _work_ here?" the man now looked embarrassed. They shook their heads. "Oh, I—uh. I am terribly sorry. I don't believe we've ever had guests who so resembled the characters of our beloved stories before. Uh—if you'll give me your name, I will inform my supervisor of this mix-up, and we will be happy to provide you with a room upgrade or perhaps a night in Cinderella's castle if it's available?"

"It's quite alright, sir. I hardly think your castle can compare to our Wiltshire estate," Épiphanie grinned.

"And we're more wizardly and witchy than prince and princess," added Draco with a smirk.


	30. Make Her Forget

It is late and she is walking along Bourbon Street, her mind on nothing in particular. She is still amazed that she could actually create and hold a ball of fire in her hands without being burned. Suddenly, she is grabbed by the arm and yanked behind a gate and into a narrow alleyway between two buildings. The man smells strongly of sweat and his rough hands touch her everywhere, sliding beneath her shirt as he pushes her against the wall. He threatens her.

"Don't scream, bitch!"

The smell of him turns her stomach, and she holds her breath as she tries to fight him off. Something inside overwhelms her fear, and she is angry as he tugs at the waistband of her shorts. She scratches his face viciously and suddenly, the alleyway fills with green light and he falls away from her. She runs…"

She feels a searing pain that brings tears to her eyes. Gasping, she tries to crawl towards Seamus, who is being pummeled now. Just as her fingers reached out for his ankle, she felt a cracking pain in the back of her head and everything goes blurry. Broken glass and debris are cutting into her palms, as she is pulled over the rough pavement. Hands tugged at her pants and she grabbed her waistband, kicking desperately at her attackers.

"…show her what it's like to be with a man…what the—"

" _Stupefy! Impedimenta! Flipendo!_ " Were those voices real? She blinks, trying to clear her vision.

"Seamus!" She gasps. A hand suddenly grips hers, fingers tightly curling around hers, just as a hard blow lands against her back and she feels another searing pain radiating into her chest. She can't breathe.

"Épiphanie, no!" Is that Draco? Is he here? There is a flash of green and everything goes dark.

Theodore flings himself at her, his hands at her throat. They fall to the floor with a crash. Her head bounces off the hard wood and stars appear in her vision.

"What did you do to me?" he screams, squeezing his fingers around her throat, his knee in her chest. "I will fucking kill you, bitch!"

She struggles to breathe, clawing at him. The golden necklace that hangs about his neck comes away in her hand. She clutches his wrists, spots appearing before her eyes. She reaches up and pushes her palm against his face.

"It is _over!_ " she chokes. " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

The room glows green and Theodore's protest hangs unspoken in his throat as he collapses in a heap beside her. She tries to push him away, but he still holds her firmly in his grasp. The more she struggles, the tighter his grip becomes as he drags her with him towards the veil.

* * *

Épiphanie writhed about. "No!" she gasped, clawing at the hands which pulled her tightly into the warm body against her back.

"Mm! Ow! Ouch! Épiphanie, darling, wake up! It's me! It's me, Draco! Épiphanie!" Draco, fully awake now, due to the pain she was inflicting on his hands and arms, pulled away and sat up. He noticed the billowing of the filmy netting about their bed as the chandeliers creaked and swayed overhead, and scrambled away from his new wife, grabbing his wand. He crouched beside the vanity on the far side of the room and waited for her roiling magic to subside.

He'd never seen Épiphanie have a nightmare before. Normally, it was she who was calming him after a particularly upsetting dream, and knowing her propensity for casting lethal curses while in distress, he naturally feared for his safety.

"Please wake up, my love!" he begged. "It's just a dream. You're safe! It's just a dream!"

Épiphanie jerked awake. "No! No!" she gasped, staring around in the darkness.

" _Lumos!_ " Draco lit his wand. "Épiphanie, my love! It's okay! I'm here."

"Draco?" she peered through the gauzy bed curtains at her husband as he crouched behind her vanity.

"I'm sorry, beloved. You began to attack me in the heat of your night terror. I feared your magic would grow out of control and you might unconsciously do something you would later regret." He waved his wand and the lamps lit themselves as he approached the bed. Another flick of his wrist and the canopy drew itself back and around the bedposts. He returned to the bed, and pulled her into his arms. Épiphanie felt a tug of guilt when she saw the scratches on his hands and arms as he wrapped them around her.

"Draco, I—"

"I've never seen you have a nightmare before, beloved. What happened?"

"They—they're dead, Draco."

"Who's dead?" he asked. "Has something happened? Should I call Harry? Wait—no—the girls—" he started.

"No—no! It's not the girls—I—" Épiphanie shuddered. "I can't—"

Draco tightened his embrace and kissed her hair.

"You can tell me, dearest."

"What—what would your wand tell about the deeds you have done, Draco? If—if ever _Priori Incantatem_ was cast upon it _,_ what would it show?" she asked, her voice full of nervous energy.

"A lot of foolish choices, love. Choices that still leave me feeling guilty in my quietest moments. Why?"

"How many of those foolish choices were unforgivable? How many left a man dead?"

"Oh, Épiphanie, please don't ask me—"

"How many times did you ever cast a killing curse, Draco? Did you ever?" Épiphanie's voice came out in a strangled whisper.

"I—"

"You never have. I know you haven't. Even when your own life was on the line, you didn't have the will to murder outright." Épiphanie shook uncontrollably. "I've killed s-six—six—six men, Draco! My—my soul—what have I done? What have I done? What have I done?" Épiphanie repeated over and over as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Draco rocked her for what seemed an eternity before her sobs quieted into exhausted whimpers and hiccups.

"I'm not—I'm not a killer! Am I, Draco? I'm—I'm not like them," she hiccupped.

"No! No, my beloved. You're not like them. You're nothing like them. You were defending yourself and the people you care about," he replied, gently stroking her hair.

"I—I can see into the darkest corners of their minds! I see the things they keep hidden from others! There's so much darkness! I c-can't—I can't get it off me! I just want it to go a-away! God, _Draco!_ "

"Shhh…It's okay, love. It's okay. You don't have to hold on to any of that." He reached over and took her wand from the night table. "Here. You know what to do. Your mind is too full of it all. Let it go."

She took her wand in a shaking hand, breathing heavily.

"It's okay love. I'm here for you," Draco reassured her.

Épiphanie touched the wand to her temple. When she pulled it away, a long silvery strand came away with it. Draco summoned a phial to collect the memory. She touched her wand to her head again and again, her face set in an expression of agony that made his heart ache. He cast about for a larger container, eventually finding a large crystal vase in the sitting room.

Finally, after several minutes, she allowed the wand to fall from her hand and slumped breathlessly against the pillows. Draco stared, dumbfounded, at the silvery wisps swirling around the vase, reflecting in the facets of the cut crystal and firelight. He couldn't begin to imagine the weight she must have been carrying for years. He had never seen so many memories extracted at one time.

"What will you do with them?" she asked. "The memories?"

"I don't know. There's so many, love. We'll need to find a way to store them."

"No. Get rid of them. Please! I don't want them back!" She shook her head vehemently and opened her eyes. "Please."

Draco looked upon his wife's drawn face. Her eyes were filled with anguish. He stood, holding the vase of swirling memories, and stepped away from the bed. With a look of determination, Draco hurled the vase into the fireplace. The cut crystal exploded with a crash and the flames flared a bright purple before receding. He returned to the bed, taking her hand in his and brushed his lips over her fingers. She looked up at him.

"You hid from me."

"I'm sorry, my immortal beloved," Draco apologized.

"No. You hid from me because I was dangerous. We can't live like that, Draco."

"I love you, Ma Zirondelle. I am bound to you, now and forever. Principium et finis meus es tu—you are my beginning and my end. If we fall, we fall together." He kissed her hand again.

"Help me Draco. Please," she begged, her voice a whisper. "Please, Draco."

Épiphanie's eyes fluttered closed, but she squeezed his hand tightly. He summoned a phial of Dreamless Sleep and encouraged her to drink it. She was sleeping soundly within minutes. He quietly held her in his arms for a while longer before slipping from the bed. He wrapped his dressing gown about himself, neatly tying the belt, and made his way downstairs.

Draco entered his study and went to his desk. He took a sheaf of parchment from his desk drawer and picked up his favorite pen. He'd all but given up using quills after Épiphanie had introduced him to the more convenient fountain pens which didn't require constant dipping. Since then, he'd acquired a collection of fine writing utensils from Mont Blanc to Waterman, but his favorite was the silver pen with the elaborate filigree engraving. It was the one that she'd first demonstrated to him. Draco uncapped the pen and began to write.

 _I need your help…_

* * *

The sun was high in the sky when Épiphanie awoke alone. It wasn't like Draco to leave her in bed. She had grown accustomed to him pulling her in close and waking her with kisses and soft murmurings, only disentangling himself from her in order to heed the call of nature. She lay quietly in bed, staring up at the mark embossed on the ceiling before finally climbing out of bed, and slid her feet into the soft leather slippers beside the bed.

Once she'd freshened up, she ran her fingers through her tangled hair and twisted it into a braid as she made her way downstairs. She had decided to head down to the kitchens to snag a bowl of fruit, when she heard the sound of voices coming from the dining room.

Entering the grand hall, Épiphanie was surprised to find Draco sitting at the table with Neville and Dean. They all looked up at her with smiling faces.

"What's going on?" she asked. Despite the fact that the two wizards seated at the table with her husband had previously seen her in various stages of undress, she self-consciously pulled her dressing gown together as she stood at the end of the table.

Draco held out his hand, beckoning to her. She moved to his side, Dean and Neville's gazes following her like heliotropes. He pulled her into his lap and Diggy appeared, placing a bowl of fresh fruit on the table in front of them. Draco plucked an orange wedge and held it up. Neville and Dean watched her intently and she looked curiously at her husband.

"You must eat, beloved. You had a stressful night," Draco patiently held the orange wedge. With his other hand, he gave her hair a slight tug. "Open." His voice was firm this time. Épiphanie opened her mouth and allowed him to feed her. The citrus fruit was sweet and bursting with juice.

"Well done, love."

 _What's going on?_

"No, love. Relax your mind. All is well. Dean and Neville are here to assist me if you will allow them."

"I—" She looked down at the angry red marks on the backs of his hands. She touched his hand and for a moment, she had a flash of a memory. The sting of a flogging hex…

 _Draco moaned loudly and tears streamed from his eyes._

 _"_ _I'm sorry!" he wailed. "He had my family! I had no choice! I didn't want anyone to die! I didn't want them tortured! I didn't want the mark! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Oh! I couldn't stop it! I couldn't—I—please! Please! I—I—"_

 _"_ _Cling to those shadows no more, Draco. That life is done. This is the penance you sought and the consolation that you required. The pain is over, Draco. Accept the pleasure."_

Épiphanie looked from Draco to Dean and Neville once again. The gazes of the Gryffindors were intent and expectant. Draco tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"Eat, my dearest." He offered her a grape from the bowl as Neville began to speak.

"We know that you are essentially still on your honeymoon, love. However, your beloved felt that you might benefit from perhaps some more _decadent_ activity. He was concerned about the state of your…magical health." He sipped his tea.

"Neville and I have a bit more experience than Draco, darling. We are here for you and your benefit," said Dean. He gave her a wink.

"I see." She turned to Draco. "You told them."

"You asked me to help you, so I turned to the ones who helped me." He kissed her jaw. "You can trust them," he whispered.

"This experience will be a bit different than the others, love," said Neville. As he spoke, Draco continued to kiss along her neck and shoulder, pulling the ribbon that held her dressing gown together. He pulled the peignoir away from her shoulders, and lightly traced his fingers over the mark at her back.

"This will be a more protracted adventure, and not so much an intense scene," added Dean. "Just remember, you still have the choice to refuse consent."

Draco had pulled the lingerie down to her waist. Épiphanie sat fully exposed to the wizards, who continued their meals as if nothing out of the ordinary was taking place. As Draco continued to trace over her back, the lingering memory flashed to the fore of her mind again.

" _Cling to those shadows no more…_ "

"Okay."

Draco nipped at her neck. She felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin.

"Coffee, my love?" he asked.

"Yes, please." She reached for the French press, but he drew her hands back to her lap. Pouring and preparing her café au lait exactly as she preferred it, Draco lifted the delicate cup to her lips.

So went the remainder of the breakfast. Épiphanie remained perched in Draco's lap, half-dressed, her hands folded as he fed her. The wizards spoke of mundane things, such as the upcoming school term and the latest news in the Daily Prophet, as well as business at Dean and Seamus' nightclub, and Dean's contemplation of whether or not to open a gallery. Pippy cleared the dishes and Draco pushed Épiphanie to her feet causing her gown and robe to fall to the floor.

Dean produced a lead and clipped it to her collar. He slowly wound the leather strap about his fist, forcing her to lean over the table. The highly polished wood was smooth against her cheek as she rested her head on the surface. Her heart hammered in her chest.

Neville stood behind her, taking her wrists and pulling them together. He quickly and efficiently coiled soft rope around them. The raw linen of his trousers against her skin as he leaned over her and pulled her elbows back to bind them was enticing, and she fought the urge to press her ass against his crotch. Draco leaned across the table, wand in hand, and planted a kiss behind her ear.

" _Langlock!_ " he whispered.

She flinched, restrained as she was, and let out a muffled whimper as her tongue affixed itself to the roof of her mouth, rendering her unable to speak.

"Shh! You are so beautiful right now, Dragonfly." He kissed her neck. "I love you like this. I love the way that they look at you, as if you were the prize, Aphrodite herself." He kissed her again and stood, turning to his companions.

"Neville, have I ever shown you Mother's conservatories? You know herbology was her best subject at Hogwarts. She has always had a particular love of horticulture."

"I have observed the amazing rose gardens beyond the study," Neville replied. "They are quite extraordinary!"

"Wait until you see her umbrella flowers!" Draco bragged.

The earth was warm beneath her bare feet as Épiphanie followed the three wizards along the soft gravel path from the main house to the gleaming conservatories at the bottom of the vast south lawn. Dean held the lead loosely in his hand, occasionally commenting on the animated conversation the other two wizards were having as they walked hand-in-hand a few steps ahead of her. She kept her eyes focused upon the ground and stepped carefully, her bound arms useless to help her balance. Dean lightly tugged at the lead each time she fell behind, forcing her to skip a step, and she pursed her lips, with the sensation of the _langlock_ jinx strange and a bit unnerving.

She was instructed to kneel just outside the greenhouse, and the lead was tethered to a hook on the wall. Épiphanie wasn't sure how much time had passed as she waited for them, but the discomfort of kneeling upon the tiny round stones had just begun to make her wriggle when the three wizards emerged once more, still talking passionately.

"You know, Dean. These sketches would make excellent classroom illustrations. Would you mind if I kept one or two of them?" Neville asked, flipping through the sketchpad in his hand as they passed her. Draco untethered the lead and tugged on it. Épiphanie had only a moment to struggle ungracefully to her feet, tripping along behind them.

They returned to the house, and she shivered upon entering the library, its darkly paneled interior cool to her bare skin after sitting on the sunbaked earth. Draco tied her down atop the large study table in the center of the room. He pinched her ass before joining Neville at the chess board. Dean browsed the shelves of books, climbing a spiral stair in the corner to reach a narrow walkway that accessed a second level of shelves. She watched him as he moved back and forth across the balcony before disappearing into the stacks. He returned a few minutes later and retrieved his sketch pad, settling into the leather chesterfield sofa across from the desk. She heard the scratching of pencil against the paper as he drew, and she turned her head in his direction. He stared at her intently over the top of the workbook; his hand never stopped moving.

"I love your ass," he murmured. "It may possibly be the most perfect bum I've ever seen."

"Indeed," Neville said. "Have you tried the plug yet?" he asked Draco.

"Not just yet. Didn't exactly want to try and explain that at customs, you know," Draco replied.

"Of course."

"So, Dean," Draco cast over his shoulder at the other wizard. "I thought I would inquire as to your schedule. I am quite interested in having portraits of the girls for the drawing room. I think Artemis might be able to sit still long enough now."

"Well, I don't currently have any projects on the table. I'm sure we could work something out," Dean replied.

Épiphanie half-listened to the banal conversation taking place around her. She worked her jaw and sighed, a soft whimper issuing from her throat. No one appeared to take notice. She shifted a bit, the ropes, having little slack in them, left her legs spread wide, baring her pussy. She found herself oddly aroused at being so vulnerably exposed.

"And the terms we have discussed are still amenable to you?" Draco asked.

"Oh, yes." Dean set his drawing aside and walked over to the table, looking down at her. She stared back, questioning. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as he stood quietly over her staring. He reached out a hand at last, and traced it along her cheek the way he had done on the day he painted her portrait. Épiphanie's pulse quickened.

Dean continued to stare down at her, holding her gaze locked in his. Draco and Neville continued to talk of trivial matters over their game. She thought she heard him recounting the details of their trip to Florida.

Dean hooked a finger under her collar and pulled it. She wriggled to avoid being asphyxiated, until her head was hanging over the edge of the table and she was staring upside down at the bulge behind the button-fly of his blue jeans. He was so close, she could see the threads along the placket, worn soft and white from repeated washings and wearing. Clearly these were a favorite pair of trousers.

He conjured a device which looked to Épiphanie like a spur without a heel band, but a handle instead attached to the rowel.

"Have you ever seen a Wartenberg wheel?" he asked. She shook her head. He smiled roguishly. "I think you'll like it."

Dean lightly touched the spiked wheel to her flesh and began to move it over her torso in a random pattern. The highly alert nerve endings underneath her skin roared to life and she let out a high-pitched squeak. Draco and Neville looked away from their game.

"Oh, Dean! You monster!" Neville smiled. "A Wartenberg pinwheel! Ingenious! She'll be a quivering mess!"

As far as Épiphanie was concerned, Neville was absolutely correct. Dean leaned over her, the denim of his crotch soft against her face as he teased every inch of flesh on her torso. She arched her back, a keening moan escaping from her throat around the jinx that prevented her from speaking. Her clit pulsed with desire.

" _Finite Incantatem!_ " he released her from the jinx and she inhaled deeply, licking her lips.

"Oh, my god! Oh, my god!" she panted, bucking her hips upward.

"You want it don't you?" he whispered. "I heard you that night. Draco wouldn't let you have it." Épiphanie pressed her lips together. He tugged at the back of the collar again. "Open!" He pulled it harder and she opened her mouth to gasp for air. "Stay just like that."

He freed his cock from his pants and it bobbed against her chin. "Lick it!" he commanded. She stuck out her tongue and he slid his member along it, the veins standing out along the shaft like ropes.

Dean let out a sigh and shoved his dick roughly down her throat. Épiphanie bucked on the desktop as she struggled to breathe. He gripped the edges of the table for leverage and let out a guttural moan. "Fuck, yes!" he ground his hips against her face.

"Please don't suffocate my wife, Thomas. Our children have already lost one mother." Draco's voice was inexpressive as he moved his knight.

Dean retreated enough to allow Épiphanie to gasp for air as she writhed, pulling against her restraints. Her pussy was soaked with need, the leather desktop slick beneath her. He grabbed her hair and thrust into her over and over, whispered curses tumbling from his lips.

"Shit! Fuck! Oh my god, yes! Take it all! You're so fucking amazing! Merlin and Godric!"

The chess game continued quietly on the other side of the room. Neville moved his bishop and leveled his gaze at Draco, whose lips curved into a sneer. He reached for his wand and pointed it under his arm.

Épiphanie moaned loudly, lifting her hips off the table as her clit buzzed to life under the curse her husband fired at her. She clenched her hands into fists, arching her back and spots appeared in her field of vision as Dean continued to fuck her throat.

"Oh, fucking shit! Fucking shit! Fucking yessss! Mmmmnnnhhhhh!" Dean growled as he climaxed, hot cum flowing down her throat.

"Checkmate," Neville announced.

* * *

Draco called for lunch and Épiphanie curled in Draco's lap, her head on his shoulder as he fed her from his own plate. Her generally dignified and mannerly spouse used his fingers to place the tender morsels of Cornish game hen into her mouth. She drunkenly licked over his slender fingers as he pressed them into her mouth.

Draco pushed his fingers farther into her mouth, moving them slowly back and forth.

"Lick them clean!" he whispered into her ear, dropping his other hand to her lap and pushing her thighs apart. He pinched her clit until she let out a rasping moan. "Good girl!" Épiphanie lifted her hips to his hand, and he removed it, grabbing her hair. "No need to be greedy, love. There's plenty to go around."

Draco used her hair to direct her from his lap as he stood.

"Don't move," he growled before stalking from the room.

Épiphanie fixed her eyes upon the table, her legs quivering, aware that both Dean and Neville were gazing intently at her. They were silent, and she could feel the sexual energy radiating from both wizards. Draco returned a few minutes later carrying a glossy black box. She recognized it as part of the large wedding gift that Seamus and Hannah had given her. It was from the second layer that she hadn't opened at the party.

Neville and Dean stood, taking her hands, and she felt the familiar pressing in as they disapparated. They landed in the loft of the carriage house. The once derelict structure had been restored not long before the wedding, and the dark hall was now a bright showcase for the antique vehicles as well as the vintage car that Épiphanie had become fond of whisking around the countryside.

She hadn't ventured into the loft before now, preferring to leave it to the comfort of the rats, owls and bats who called it home. She was surprised to find it transformed into a clean and attractive space. Épiphanie didn't have long to consider the appointments of the room before she was bent over a tréteau, her hands and feet joined to the wooden A-frame with leather horse shackles. Draco set the box onto the floor and lifted the lid. An array of hand-blown, glass anal plugs were nestled on a silk pad.

"That one," said Neville, pointing to a petite bulb with a rose-shaped flange. It had a swirl of gold incorporated into the glass.

Draco picked up the device and touched it to Épiphanie's lips. "Open," he commanded. She hesitated. Dean slapped her ass.

"Wha—" Draco pushed it into her open mouth, turning the cool glass over her tongue.

"That's a good girl," he said, working it back and forth. "Get it good and slick."

Épiphanie felt Dean's fingers slide into her pussy, working her budding arousal until she was wet and trembling. He fingered the rim of her ass, sliding his slick fingers over it. She whimpered and moaned around the sex toy in her mouth. Dean held out his hand and Draco passed him the plug.

" _Resigno Apertus!_ "

Épiphanie yanked at the restraints as she felt herself spreading apart and relaxing as he seated the butt plug. She thrashed about uselessly as the sensation of being filled overtook her. Dean stood back with Draco and Neville and admired the glass rose nestled between her round ass cheeks.

"Beautiful!" Draco exclaimed.

"Exquisite!" Dean added.

"Indeed!" Neville agreed.

Draco ran his impeccably manicured nails over her back as he moved to stand in front of her again. He crouched down in front of her and she lifted her head to gaze into his eyes as a wicked smile spread across his visage.

"You look so delicious, my dearest. I love to see that intoxicated look on your face—eyes half closed, and your body begging for more," he whispered. "It fucking turns you on to be displayed for our friends doesn't it?" He lifted her chin. "You're mine, but you love it when I share you, yes?" He pushed his thumb into her mouth. "You can tell me."

"Yeth," she replied, her words muffled by his hand in her mouth.

"Good girl!" he kissed her forehead. He reached into his pocket and produced a ring gag, which he deftly slid behind her teeth and fastened tightly. Saliva drooled from her wide open mouth onto the floor. "You should see them wanking as they watch you squirm!" Draco stood, fisting her hair and pulling her head up as he freed his erect cock from his trousers and pushed it between her lips. "Fuck! Yes! Take it, my love!"

Épiphanie gagged and squirmed as he gripped her head, thrusting into her mouth, his dick hitting the back of her already abused throat.

"You are so lovely, Ma Zirondelle!" he exclaimed.

Suddenly, a searing pain flashed across the backs of her thighs, and she cried out. Draco held her fast, his fingers tangled in her hair. The cane stung her ass again. She pulled against the restraints.

"Ohhhhh! Mmmmm!" she moaned.

"Oh, fucking _yes!_ _Yes!_ " Draco threw his head back, quivering with pleasure as his cock slid over her tongue, her full lips tightening with each blow that Neville delivered to her ass with the cane. Her backside was on fire, welts striping her flesh around the glass rose bloom.

There was none of the desperate, drowning, breathlessness in Draco's voice as he filled her mouth with hot, bitter, salty cum. He simply shuddered and growled, painfully gripping her hair and burying her face in his groin until all of her airways were cut off and she once again struggled to breathe around the obstruction in her throat and over her nose.

Épiphanie felt something warm and wet landing on her lower back and running over her ass. She assumed that either Neville, Dean or both of them had shot their load all over her. She felt utterly debauched, and she sank to the floor after she was released and cleaning charms cast, curled into a ball of spent and quivering flesh.

"Are you alright, my beloved?" Draco asked. She nodded mutely, and closed her eyes. Dean and Neville had been right. This experience had been very different from the others.

They had put her to a brutal test, that—although it wasn't awful or even truly injurious—it tested her endurance and sapped her magical energy. She felt like a rag doll. She wasn't floating on the edges of consciousness as she had in their other encounters. In fact, she was acutely aware of all that was taking place around her, but she felt too weak to move or even speak—if she was perfectly honest with herself—she had no desire to try. They apparated back to the main house and Draco put her to bed. She didn't argue. He kissed her deeply, and she heard him inviting the others to stay for dinner as she fell deeply into a dreamless sleep.

Épiphanie awoke to an empty bed once again the next morning. She climbed out of bed and was headed for the bath when she noticed a set of robes draped over a chair beside her vanity. Épiphanie looked at them curiously. Although quite elegant—they looked to be Egyptian cotton, trimmed in satin—the robes were quite fussy, what with multiple layers of sleeves and petticoats, as well as a muslin over-skirt and sweep train. She was sure that any non-magical person would require an assistant just to help her get everything in place.

Épiphanie took her time to shower and dress in her favorite outfit, a short, bright yellow sundress in gauzy fabric that showed off her long legs. She let her curls fall freely down her back from a ponytail, and slipped her feet into a pair of white canvas tennis shoes. Feeling suitably refreshed, she grabbed her wand, twirling it in her fingers as she skipped down the stairs. Again, she heard the sound of voices when she reached the grand foyer. This time, they floated from the library. She pushed open the doors to find Draco and Neville sprawled on the sofa. Draco leaned casually into Neville as they each read a section of _The Daily Prophet_. She was surprised to find Hannah seated at Neville's feet. Dean sat in a club chair opposite them, reading the latest copy of _Which Broomstick_ while Seamus stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders.

When she entered, Draco lowered the section of the paper that he was reading and frowned.

"Épiphanie, _what_ are you wearing?" he asked.

"What?" I thought you liked this dress," she replied in confusion.

"Did you not see the items that were left for you?"

"You mean those chintzy robes? Isn't it rather warm for all that fuss?" she shrugged. Draco sighed heavily and sat up.

"Oh, my dear one!" Neville exclaimed. He laid aside his paper. Dean looked up from his magazine. "You must always be attuned to your mate at all times."

"But I don't have to—"

" _Yes_ , you do. Unless you have respectfully expressed your misgivings and been granted permission to do otherwise."

Épiphanie was aware of everyone's eyes upon her now, and she felt roundly chastised. Draco flicked his wand and her clothing was vanished.

"Hey!" she exclaimed defiantly.

"You _will_ be quiet, love." His voice was firm as he moved swiftly across the room to her. "Since you find my selection of attire objectionable, for now, you will go without clothing. Any further defiant behavior and correction will be swift _and_ harsh." Draco took her hair in his fist and pulled her in for a deep kiss.

"Sir," Tickety appeared. He let out a squeak, noting his mistress' state, and turned his head. "S-sir, breakfast is served." The elf disappeared without awaiting a reply.

The group moved to the dining room. Draco once again pulled Épiphanie into his lap, while Hannah sat to Neville's left, and Seamus sat to Dean's right. They enjoyed a petit dejeuner consisting of pain au chocolat, croissants, and baguettes with butter and jam, as well as yogurt and fresh fruit, with café au lait. Seamus happily filled his plate, while Hannah sat quietly until Neville directed her to take a croissant and a small serving of yogurt. She did not eat until instructed.

Draco lifted a strawberry to Épiphanie's lips and she bit into the plump red fruit. After all had savored a few tastes of the light breakfast, Neville began to speak.

"Épiphanie, love, most pureblood witches and wizards learn early to harness their magic, because we are raised in this world. Our parents and family are able to teach us what is appropriate. A muggleborn or halfblood will either learn to hide his magic, or may even be unaware of his or her abilities until they reach the age at which they will receive their magical education. Wizards and witches of exceptional ability—especially those with an upbringing that is nontraditional at best—orphans, those who have been abused, or ones whose magic is disregarded or misunderstood—Tom Riddle, Harry Potter, even you—had difficulty early on with magical control. Tom quickly discovered that control of his powers meant control of others. Harry ignores his magic. He continues to do many things the muggle way out of a desire to make himself less important. Your ability to perform wandless magic—complex wandless magic—at will, coupled with the fact that you were nearly of age before you fully entered the magical world, left you with a great deal of raw magic that is difficult to control."

Draco offered her a sip of coffee, careful not to allow the hot liquid to spill upon her bare skin.

"You are quite passionate love, and the memories and the thoughts of those that you have come into contact with have begun to imprint themselves upon you. They took over your unconscious moments. It's why you didn't dream, but your unconscious moments were filled with the memories and dreams of others," Draco added. His mouth turned down into a slight frown, thinking guiltily of all the nights he woke her because of his dreams and tortured thoughts.

"We should consider ourselves fortunate that your mother had a level of respect for—if not full understanding of your magic—and that your ancestor's spirit was able to give you some understanding of your powers and how to begin to harness them somewhat, or you might well have become an obscurial," said Neville.

Épiphanie thought of the way the Great Hall had been destroyed on the night that Theodore Nott attacked her on the Astronomy Tower. She shuddered at the thought of becoming as disturbed as the boy she remembered Iolanthe telling them about, and how it had left him so vulnerable to manipulation.

"Yesterday, you were put to a few tests. When it was over, what was different?" he asked.

"No subspace," she replied. "But I still felt so weak—like I could sleep forever."

"Because your magical energy was spent. Your first time, the whole room vibrated, and several objects levitated."

"I nearly levitated the table at Tethrippon," she said, sheepishly. Dean snickered.

"You find amusement in your powers, Épiphanie, yes?" he asked.

She was about to protest, when she realized that there was some truth in that statement. When she was younger, she did consider it interesting to see the thoughts of others, and to play with them at will if she so chose. She didn't always consider the consequences of that behavior. She thought about the times at Hogwarts when she retaliated against the disrespect she felt others such as Zabini and Nott had shown towards her, and the flippant manner in which she responded after hexing them. She lowered her head, worrying her lip.

"Draco was the same when we were kids at Hogwarts," said Seamus. "He and his friends got off on tormenting others. But that was before the war began in earnest."

"Once you become more fully committed to your Dom/sub dynamic, you will be more grounded. He _clearly_ draws upon your raw magic, and as you allow him to give you what you need, that excess will be spent," said Dean. "That won't make you weaker as a witch. Your rages and unconscious magic will lessen."

"But your intentional magic will be even _more_ focused and powerful," said Neville.

"Now, as to the matter of discipline," said Draco.

They apparated to Brutus' bedchamber and entered the passage behind the wardrobe. The room appeared to have transformed itself to accommodate the larger number of people. Chairs appeared and Dean and Neville settled into them, their partners kneeling at their sides. Draco led Épiphanie to the center of the room.

" _Incarcere Continuisse!_ " His voice was low and tight. Her pulse quickened, as she was restrained, her limbs spread apart. " _Langlock!"_ A panicked expression flitted across her face, and the lights flickered. Draco stepped up to her, drawing a finger along her jaw. He brushed his lips across hers. "Relax, beloved. You're safe here," he whispered. Draco drew his finger down her chin and between her breasts. He circled her, tracing his fingers over her skin until goosebumps rose to her flesh and she shivered. He stood behind her, so close that the fabric of his robes brushed lightly over her flesh. "No blindfold this time," he whispered. "I want you to see them watching you take your punishment."

The room was almost eerily silent and she looked at her circle of friends. Neville and Dean were whispering among themselves. Dean occasionally gestured in their direction. Hannah and Seamus both had their heads lowered as they knelt.

" _Ipsam Carnem!_ " The first lashing hex landed across her back.

The jinx he had cast, prevented the cry that formed in her throat from escaping, and she let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper, pulling at her restraints.

" _Ipsam Carnem!_ " he repeated. Épiphanie moaned. She had already begun to feel her clitoris perk up, seeking relief.

Draco continued to repeat the incantation as he striped her with lashes from the hex. Épiphanie squeezed her eyes shut. The muscles in her arms ached from pulling at the restraints. She was breathing heavily and humming softly when he finally stopped.

"Sir," said Draco. Épiphanie forced herself to open her eyes just as he held out his hand towards Neville, who handed him a slender cane. She whimpered loudly, pleading with her eyes. Draco turned to her and sank his fingers into her soaking pussy, stroking it deliberately as he spoke. " _Finite!_ I want you to count. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes." She stammered.

"What was that?" He stilled his hand.

"Oui, ma bien-aimée."

"Bien joué, ma chère." He nipped her lip and began to circle her again, tapping the cane against his leg. She turned her head to watch him. "Eyes front."

The cane swished through the air before it landed against her firm bottom with a slap.

"Aah! One!" she cried. Slap. "Mm! Two!" Slap. "Th-three!" She gripped the restraints hard, drawing up her legs until the shackles on her ankles were taut.

"If that's the way you want it," Draco said. " _Sublevo!_ " She was raised into the air, her legs held open by the restraints attached to the floor. There was no slack for her to pull as she was suspended, arms and legs spread wide. He struck her with the cane again and again, until twenty angry welts striped her ass and the backs of her thighs. Épiphanie's voice was raw as she cried out, bucking her hips as an orgasm washed over her.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the faintly glowing coals in the fireplace. Draco stood looking at the still form of his wife, shrouded by the diaphanous curtains of the bed canopy. Épiphanie had slept soundly and unmoving since he'd carried her to the room hours earlier and gently smoothed essence of dittany to the stripes he'd applied to her flesh. She still lay on her stomach, the covers drawn back, her brown skin a contrast to the white linens. One leg was drawn up and crossed over the back of the other.

He slipped into bed beside her and wrapped her in his arms. She stirred slightly and he pulled her close, kissing her hair.

"Je t'aime tellement, Ma Zirondelle!" he whispered. She hummed faintly. "You are so beautiful, so talented, so powerful. I am not worthy of you. I am so lucky to have you."

"Love you too, Drake," she murmured into the pillow.

He lightly traced his fingers over the talisman on her back. She shuddered. Draco trailed his fingers along her spine and over her ass. He teased the rim of her entry. She whimpered.

"Dean's right. You do have the most perfect bum," he whispered.

Épiphanie's eyes fluttered open for just a moment, and her breathing quickened. She was utterly spent from her morning's experience and her body felt like dead weight, but the insistent ministrations that Draco was applying to her ass were impossible to ignore. He was torturing her and she was powerless to do anything about it. Even talking was a tremendous effort.

Draco pushed his finger into her ass. She let out a soft moan. He smiled, holding it there before he began to work it back and forth. She began to purr.

"By Merlin, I think she likes it!" he whispered. He knelt astride her, grabbing his wand, and summoned another anal toy. This one had a jeweled flange in iridescent black opal.

Épiphanie let out a whining moan as he muttered the incantation to prepare her, and pushed the plug into her ass. He bit his lip as he nudged her legs apart and pushed his fingers into her moist pussy. He stared hungrily at his wife, so spent that she could only moan in response to his attentions. He worked all of his fingers inside her, filling her until she was dripping. He stroked his cock with his other hand.

"Unnnnh!"

"I wish you could see yourself, beloved—spent and cataleptic, yet wanting it desperately."

"Mmmmm!"

"Fuck, I want you!" He teased her with the head of his cock.

Épiphanie was throbbing with want. She tried to move, to push against him—anything to show her husband that she needed him now. It was worse than losing her powers and being bound.

"P-please," she managed to stammer.

"Do you want it?"

"Mm—y-yes, p-pl-please. Drake—Draco, m-ma bien-aimée!"

And it was all that Draco needed to hear. He plunged deeply into Épiphanie with one strong thrust that elicited a sob of pleasure from her. Draco fucked her with abandon, the plug in her ass sliding against his cock in her pussy and heightening his sensations.

"Oh, _fuck!_ I swear by the gods, you were cast down from the heavens just for me! Oh, shit! Shit!"

Épiphanie was trembling uncontrollably, the sensations inside of her were heavenly, and unbidden tears sprang to her eyes as Draco jerked his release deep inside her. He collapsed beside her, panting, and drew her into his arms. Noting her trembling, Draco raised himself on his elbow and turned her onto her back.

"Are you alright, beloved?"

"I—I—y-yes," she murmured. "I—hmmmm!" She continued to tremble, tears streaming from her eyes. Draco cradled her in his arms and summoned Pippy.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

"Please bring Mistress a glass of milk and some warm broth." When the elf disappeared, Draco cast his wand towards the bath and scooped Épiphanie into his arms, carrying her to the lavatory where he carefully stepped down into the deep marble balneae swirling with perfectly warmed water.

"Everything will be okay, beloved. I'm here." He cradled her head against his shoulder as he held her in his arms, the steaming water enveloping them. Draco conjured orange blossoms and soon the air was fragrant with the sweet citrus aroma. He gently stroked her damp hair as they sat in the water. "I love you so much."

After a few minutes, the flower blossoms came together and formed a wreath that rose into the air and settled itself on Draco's head. He looked down at Épiphanie. Her eyes were open and she wore a soft smile.

"I love you, ma bien-aimée." She sighed and settled closer to him, wrapping her weak arms around him.

They remained in the water a little while longer before Draco wrapped her in a soft dressing gown and carried her to the sitting room where Pippy had laid out the simple nourishment. He held Épiphanie in his lap and gently encouraged her to eat, carefully spoon-feeding her the broth until the bowl was empty. She held the glass of milk in slightly trembling hands and sipped it.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For saving me, for loving me, for giving yourself to me."

* * *

Hermione admired the pale green silk chiffon robes that Épiphanie wore when the newlyweds hosted a small banquet for their friends a few weeks later. Embroidered golden dragonflies took flight up one panel of the filmy skirts, and the handkerchief sleeves fluttered over her arms.

"Thank you, Hermione. They were a special gift from Draco." She smiled at her husband. He gave her a wink, returning her smile from where he stood beside Neville at the fireplace, chatting with Ron and Dean.

"Have you decided against muggle clothing?" she asked as they enjoyed cocktails in the drawing room. "I've noticed you wear so much less of it now." Épiphanie shrugged.

"Draco is traditional. He likes to see me in robes, and spends ridiculous amounts of money on them. I like the way he admires me even more when I wear them. I like to make him happy."

"You don't think it compromises your individuality?" Ginny asked.

"Not in the least. He's just as happy for me to wear what I like. Once I found some designs that weren't so fussy, and suit my personal style, I kind of find them to be rather comfortable. Yesterday we went to Alexander McQueen where he got me these _fabulous_ shoes!" She lifted the hem of her skirt and pointed her foot. "You should see the boots he bought me! Honey, if it puts a smile on his face during the day, and a smile on _my_ face at bedtime, it's all good!" she snickered.

"So, how was the honeymoon?" asked Ginny as dessert was served. Épiphanie flushed and lowered her head, a self-conscious smile blooming on her face.

"Ooh! That good, yeah?" teased Ron. "Well _done_ , Malfoy!" he raised his glass. The gathered wizards and witches laughed.

Draco smiled coolly and let his gaze shift momentarily to the wizard seated at the opposite end of the table. Neville nodded imperceptibly.


	31. Surprises In Store

_Spring 2005_

Épiphanie dropped to her knees and heaved the contents of her stomach into the toilet for the third time that day. Sweat dotted her brow and she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. Standing on shaky legs, she made her way to the sink where she washed her face and rinsed the taste of bile from her mouth.

"So nice of you to join us, Malfoy," her husband tossed over his shoulder when she trudged into the training room where the pregame briefing was already underway. When he turned to the group and laid eyes upon her ashen face, his expression changed. He hurried through the rest of the strategy session and rushed to her side.

"Are you well, my love?" Draco hovered over her as she checked the straps of her armor and picked up her gloves from the bench beside her.

"I'll be fine. I think that kumquat frittata we had for breakfast didn't agree with me. What was Diggy _thinking_?" She pressed her lips together to quell her roiling stomach.

"Mother, Father, I have your brooms." Grace approached, shouldering her parents' signature Firebolts. The ten-year-old was a broom-kid for the team. "Is something wrong with Mum?" she asked with concern.

"No, love. Mother's just got a touch of the nerves, that's all." He patted his daughter's shoulder. "Go on out to the pitch. Aren't you flying in the pre-match?"

He referred to a select number of children who also served as broom-kids. They were responsible for looking after the brooms and providing spares in the case of a malfunction or damage during the match. As a reward, the ten and eleven-year-olds who would soon be attending Hogwarts received flying lessons and would perform intricate flying formations and simple stunts before the Dragons' home matches.

"Yes, sir!"

"Fly fast, butterfly!" He took the brooms and smiled as he watched the girl skip from the room, her ponytail bouncing behind her. He turned back to Épiphanie and touched the back of his hand to her forehead. "Maybe you should sit out the match," he suggested.

"Drake, no! It's the League Cup final!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, but you're not well," he argued.

"I'm fine! I'm not losing another Cup to the Harpies!" she stood up defiantly, but Draco noticed the slight sway when she did so.

"Épiphanie, darling. You have nothing to prove. We won the Cup last year. Potter is pregnant again. She's not even flying, love. There's no grudge match to be had."

"But Gwenog _is,_ and I'm not sure Ambrose is ready to fly reserve. He's still cross-eyed from that bludger he took in the semifinal. I'll be fine." Draco looked at her skeptically. "If I still feel crappy afterwards, I'll get one of the team healers to check me out, okay? Besides, it's the end of the season. We're on vacation in Tuscany after that I'll have plenty of time to rest. Please, ma bien-aimée!" she begged.

Draco heaved a sigh. "Your mother was right—you are a dyed-in-the-wool professional athlete…Alright, I'll let you fly."

* * *

"Draco! Draco! That was a record snitch capture time for the Dragons! Any reason for your unusually aggressive flying today?" the reporter asked, during the postgame press conference.

"Yeah! I wanted another League Cup!" he snorted.

"So it had nothing to do with your wife's dismal performance as chaser today?" another reporter asked.

"As I recall, Épiphanie put up 250 points in goals and assists," he retorted with a scowl.

"But she also allowed four interceptions, two of which resulted in goals for the Harpies at critical situations in the match."

"I think you can agree, Mr…?" Épiphanie began.

"Arnold Nimrod, _Seeker Weekly._ "

"Nimrod…that everyone is entitled to an off day. Unfortunately, mine was today. But we are a _team,_ and a team works together for the greater good. In this case, that was the League Cup, which the Harpies will _not_ be taking with them to Holyhead this year." Épiphanie gave him a disdainful smirk. Her stomach was still churning and the crowded room felt unbearably warm.

"So you don't think the outcome might have been different if Potter had been in the game?"

"I don't _know_ , Mr. Nimrod," she replied testily. "I'll ask her when I attend her baby shower. Have a nice day." She stood abruptly, and the room swam before her eyes.

"No more questions, folks." Corbin stepped forward and began to herd the reporters out of the press room. Flashbulbs went off around the room as photographers attempted to get one last photo.

Épiphanie grimaced and closed her eyes for a moment, gripping the table to steady herself.

"Dragonfly, are you alright?" Draco whispered at her side.

"Yeah, it's just all those flashbulbs in my face, that's all."

"C'mon, let's go get changed. I think a long hot bath and bed is just the thing for you."

Épiphanie opened her eyes and turned to follow him. She willed her stomach to stop lurching when her head began to swim, and her knees buckled, the room spinning into blackness as she fell into Draco's arms.

"Épiphanie!" Draco cried, lowering his wife to the floor, and cradling her in his arms. The reporters and photographers swarmed, despite Corbin's desperate attempts to ward them off, flashbulbs strobing around them.

* * *

"Wait—what?" Épiphanie stared at the healer with a look of disbelief.

"About two months gone, in fact. Congratulations, love." She tucked her wand into the pocket of her robe and closed her satchel.

"We're—we're going to have a baby?" Draco stammered. "She's—we're—I'm—Merlin!"

"Mister Malfoy, perhaps you should sit down. You look a bit green." The healer pulled out her wand again, and summoned a chair.

Draco slowly lowered himself into it, but leapt to his feet again in the next second. "We're having a baby! Épiphanie! We're having a baby!" He rushed to her bedside, and pulled her into his arms.

"Yes, honey. I know. I'm the one who's pregnant, and if you don't stop shaking me, I'm going to be sick all over your robes!" Épiphanie grimaced.

"Of course! I'm so sorry, beloved!" Draco leapt to his feet again, pacing excitedly. "The girls will be so excited! I'll have to owl Mother—no we can tell her when we get to Tuscany! When should we tell your parents? We can have them over for dinner tonight—wait! Healer Abingdon," he turned to the witch as she was writing a list of prenatal potions that Épiphanie would need. "You understand that you are under strict confidence not to reveal this information to anyone! The press is already nipping at our heels for information regarding her collapse tonight. And The Minister—"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. All medical records pertaining to The Minister's family are kept under spell and key. Now, here's a list of potions that should help with the nausea, and improve her appetite. Everything appears to be moving along normally. I would like to visit Mrs. Malfoy about every three weeks to check everyone's progress. In the meantime, it's not prohibited, but I would advise against floo travel until she has the nausea under control, and apparate only when necessary. Good Luck to you both, and congratulations again. I'll see you soon." The witch swept out of the suite, just as Grace and Artemis ran into the room.

"Father!" Artemis exclaimed, running into Draco's arms. "Is Mummy okay?"

"What did the healer say?" Grace's eyes were bright and knowing. Draco picked up Artemis, despite his tiredness from the long day, and looked down at the ten-year-old.

"I get the feeling you already know, Charis. I sincerely hope that you haven't got some of Uncle George's extendable ears stashed away, young lady."

"Father, come _on!_ Is Mother to have a baby?" Grace demanded. Draco tried and failed to school his features.

"Yes. My darlings, sometime around Yule, there will be a new member of the Malfoy family."

"I'm going to be a big sister?" Artemis asked, anxiously.

"Are you excited about that?" he asked.

"Ummm… Does this mean I have to move out of the nursery?"

"Well, you're getting to be a big girl now. You're six. Don't you want your own suite, like Grace?"

Artemis screwed up her face. "May I have new furniture? I want purple, like the bed I saw in the Pottery Barn. _Please?_ "

"Pottery Barn? What pottery barn?"

"A store we visited in New York last year. Remember, that's where we got those lamps she loves so much?" Épiphanie reminded him.

" _Please, Father?_ " Artemis begged.

Draco looked at Épiphanie, who shrugged as if to say. "You're the one who spoils them."

"I'll think about it, _but_ you'll have to do well in your lessons, and be helpful to Mother."

"Okay! Then, yes! I'm excited!" She wriggled out of her father's arms.

"When will we know if it's a girl or a boy?" Grace asked as she and Artemis gently climbed onto the bed with their mother.

* * *

 _ **Minister's Daughter Expecting!**_

 _The Minister of Magic's office and Malfoy Manor have confirmed that Mrs. Épiphanie Malfoy is expecting the couple's third child. Many rumours have been circulating following the sudden collapse of the Quidditch star, a starting chaser for the Wiltshire Dragons, during the postgame press conference following the Dragons' win over the Holyhead Harpies for the 2005 League Cup._

 _Though this is the Malfoys' third child, it is the Minister's daughter's first pregnancy. In 2001, the couple adopted daughters Grace, age 10, and Artemis, age 6._

 _When asked for comment, expectant father, Draco had this to say: "I am predictably eager for the arrival of our newest member of the family, as are our daughters. They've already presented us with a list of names that they think are suitable for their new sibling."_

 _The couple remains mum on whether they have as yet chosen a name. Sources around the Ministry have noted that the Minister of Magic is seen much more often wearing a thoughtful smile as he walks through the corridors. He has been quoted as being "chuffed to bits at the idea of a new grandchild…"_

 _Close friends and associates agree that the family is very excited about the impending arrival, and Auror Harry Potter, himself an expectant father once again, was asked if he had any parenting advice for his business partner._

 _"_ _Well, Draco has been a father longer than I have, although not having dealt with a newborn, I'd advise them both to get plenty of sleep!"_

 _Auror Ronald Weasley, also a close friend of the family, laughingly pointed out that once again, a Potter_ and _a Malfoy will likely begin school together. "I'm betting Professor McGonagall will retire as headmistress of Hogwarts around 2017!"_

 _Professor McGonagall declined to comment._


	32. Great Expectations

Draco carefully navigated the crowds of witches and wizards in Diagon Alley who bustled about from shop to shop in search of the perfect Christmas gift for friends or family. He occasionally checked his gold pocket watch, anxious to retrieve his eldest child and return home as soon as possible. Épiphanie was due to deliver any day now. He kept the hood of his cloak pulled up over his hair. As the date of the baby's arrival drew closer, the family was constantly besieged by the press, hoping for an exclusive of any sort—the child's gender, a possible name, anything they could put their quills to. There were reporters milling about the atrium at the Ministry, as well as camped outside the gates of Malfoy Manor and Dragon Grove Arena awaiting word of the delivery. Much to his chagrin, Harry had informed him that an underground betting pool was running in nearly every Ministry department, including the Minister's office (although, it appeared that Kingsley was wholly unaware), with bets on the baby's weight, due date, name, and gender.

"Chin up, mate," he'd tried to reassure him as they took refuge in the library at Grimmauld Place during the baby shower that Ginny had hosted for Épiphanie a few weeks earlier. "I'm told they did the same thing when Ginny was pregnant with James. I was mortified to learn of it. Even Ron knew, though he _swore_ he wasn't in on it."

"Well, I suppose it's to be expected. I'm told that Aberforth is running a pool at the Hog's Head, and I'm fairly certain that George has an expansive racket set up at Weasley's," he replied derisively. "I shouldn't be surprised. She _is_ the Minister's daughter after all." He sipped his scotch and let out a chuckle. "I wonder how much the pot is at Hogwarts."

"Ah! Which one? The staff or the students?" Harry raised a brow and grinned. Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I do hope that Grace finds her way out of this maudlin behavior she's been exhibiting of late. I wonder if she's jealous now that there will be a child who isn't adopted."

"I wouldn't be too terribly concerned, Draco," Bill Weasley had told him. "It's normal. By the time Mum had Fred and George, I never wanted to see another baby bottle again—no such good luck there—but I love all of my siblings, and even now, there's still a certain emptiness when I think of Fred. I couldn't imagine not having a big family. It doesn't even seem natural. She'll get used to it. The important thing is to make sure that all of your children feel loved in some special and unique way."

* * *

Draco checked his watch again and headed into Flourish and Blotts. Grace stood at the back of a long line holding a large stack of books. Looking at his eldest daughter, he smirked with a sudden memory of seeing Hermione Granger similarly laden down. They'd always been fierce academic competitors in school, and it was a love of books that helped them to finally bridge the gap of enmity into friendship.

"Do you have enough gold, my love?" he asked.

"I think so," she replied. Draco checked his watch several times as they waited to reach the counter. He pursed his lips as he noticed the curious looks that many of the other store patrons were giving them. Finally, they were able to make their purchase and return to the street.

"Well, I think that's it. Shall we head home?"

"Grace! Hey, Grace!" they turned to see a petite girl wearing a fashionable cloak of soft pink wool over a loose-fitting winter-white jumper and a long skirt with wide box pleats, which skimmed the tops of her shoes. Her head was covered in an ombre-dyed hijab of bright pink and white that was secured with a jeweled pin.

"Oh! Aamaal, this is my dad. Father, this is Aamaal Shafiq."

"Mahmoud's daughter? As-salāmu ʿalaykum." The girl nodded, and gestured back towards a tall man a few yards away, who wore a kufi and finely trimmed wool shawl over a sherwani and churidar suit with ornate embroidery. Draco recognized the reserve seeker for the Wiltshire Dragons, and the two nodded at one another.

"Yes, sir. Waʿalaykumu s-salām. It's a pleasure to meet you." She turned to Grace and held out a small package. "Our family doesn't typically celebrate Yule, but I wanted to get you something anyway." She averted her eyes.

"Gee! Thanks, Aamaal! You didn't have to—I mean, this is really nice. Thank you." Grace took the package and gave her a shy smile.

"I know, but I wanted to thank you—you know—for the present." Her smile was nervous, but serene. Grace blushed.

Draco looked between the two girls and smiled.

"That was very nice of you, Aamaal. I do hope you enjoy your holiday. Do give your family our regards."

"Yes, sir. You too. See you, Grace?" she said, her voice a bit wistful.

"Sure. I'll write, if I can."

Aamaal's smile widened, her large, dark eyes sparkled. "Me too! Well, bye!" She turned, lifting her skirt slightly, to avoid stepping on it, and hurried to where her father waited. She gave them one last wave before they disapparated.

Draco pulled the hood of his cloak up once more, noticing that they were beginning to draw attention. He offered Grace his arm and she gripped it firmly.

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy! Any word? Have you chosen a name? Will your wife be delivering at home or at St. Mungo's? Grace? Grace? Are you excited about the baby?" Reporters shouted through the gates as they landed in the lane. Grace looked over her shoulder as her father shepherded her up the drive.

Artemis threw open the grand doors of Malfoy Manor, and launched herself into the driveway a moment later.

"Gracie, guess what? I can change into an owl now!"

"Calm down, Diana. You can show us all later. How is Mother?" he asked as they entered the house. He whisked off his cloak and handed it to their house elf, Tickety, barely breaking his stride as he crossed the foyer to the stairs. Grace did the same.

"She's been kinda weird all day. First she was fine. We were decorating the nursery. Then she was grouchy. Now, she's just crying. Ma Mère and Tante Celeste are with her right now."

"Crying?" Draco stopped and looked at Artemis, who nodded and shrugged. He ran upstairs.

* * *

"I don't think I can do this!" Épiphanie sobbed, turning on her side as Healer Abingdon packed away her things while she quietly conferred with Celeste Glapion. Angelique Shacklebolt perched on the edge of the bed, rubbing her daughter's back gently.

"Épiphanie, my darling, is everything alright?" Draco rushed into the room and looked from his wife to the healer and back again.

"Everything is just fine, Mr. Malfoy. Mother and babies are coming along just fine. It should be any day now. Nothing to worry about. She's just nervous. It's to be expected, especially with a multiple birth, but as this is a most unique situation—"

"Wait—what do you mean _unique?"_ Draco interrupted.

" _Triplets!_ " Épiphanie wailed.

"But—I mean—I thought we were having twins!" Draco stammered.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," the healer nodded. "It's never been documented in the magicosm that I know of! When I measured Mrs. Malfoy today, she seemed a bit large and her magic seemed unnaturally intemperate, so I decided to perform a second _Infantem Revelare,_ just to be certain that there were no complications. Sure enough, there was baby number two and baby number three!" she smiled. "I think your wife was a bit taken aback."

"Ma Zirondelle!" Draco moved to his wife's side. Angelique moved aside and he carefully sat down on the bed, taking Épiphanie's hand. Tears streamed down her face.

"Why does _everything_ have to be so over the top with us?" she wailed. " _Three babies!_ God!"

"We're Malfoys, my love. We are exceptional in every way." Draco lifted her hand to his lips. "Please don't cry. This is a wonderful, magical blessing! Remember that three is a magic number—the wisdom of the universe will be their gift!" he wiped away her tears. "Don't let the children see you so distressed."

Épiphanie nodded and clumsily pushed herself up on the pillows, wiping her face on her sleeve. Draco gave her hand a squeeze.

"I'll pop back by in a day or two. Absolutely no apparition from here on out." She placed a tarnished baby rattle on the side table. "This is a specialized portkey, which will take you directly to the maternity unit at St. Mungo's if there's an emergency. Otherwise, just send me a patronus the moment she begins having contractions or her waters rupture." The healer snapped her bag shut and drew on her cloak before taking a handful of floo powder from the vessel on the mantelpiece and tossing it into the flames. "Happy Christmas!" she declared and stepped into the bright green flames, disappearing with a whoosh.

* * *

"Amazing!" Celeste exclaimed, shaking her head. "We have _real_ magic in our family!"

"Tee-Tee! Ma Mère!" Grace exclaimed as she entered the room.

"Ah, bonjou, ma bébé!" Celeste grabbed the girl into a warm hug. "Look at you, sha! You're already looking like a young woman! So _tall!_ "

"Are you staying for Yule?"

"Absolutely! And to help Maman when it's time! Are you excited?"

"Yeah, I guess." Grace shrugged. She accepted a hug from her grandmother.

"You guess?" Angelique gave her a questioning look.

"I mean, I _am._ It's just I'm kinda sick of everyone talking about it. When Father and I were shopping, I think someone even tried to use legilimency on me to find out."

"What's legilimency?" Celeste asked.

"I think it's sort of like mind reading," Angelique answered. "But it's a bit more complex than that, I'm told."

"Is that that thing that Fannie always used in her readings?"

"I think it was, yes." Angelique nodded. She gave Grace's shoulder a squeeze and the girl left them to enter the bedchamber where her mother was resting.

Angelique turned back to her sister. They moved to the sitting room and took a seat on the sofa. "Fannie told me that Grace has the same gift."

"Really, girl?"

"Mm. Hmm. Apparently, that's how she discovered her."

"Wow! Honey, you are taking this all in stride! I have to hand it to you—oh my word!" Celeste exclaimed, ducking as a large bird swooped into the room and circled overhead before transforming as it landed, and Artemis grinned at them, her hair bright pink.

"Did you like that, Tee-Tee?" she skipped over and jumped into her aunt's lap.

"Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, sha! Tee-Tee isn't used to all these surprises!" Celeste clutched her chest a moment before hugging the little girl and kissing her forehead. "Pink hair?"

"Just for today! I think I shall choose green for Yule! Is Mummy okay?"

"Oh, yeah. She's just nervous. Having a baby for the first time is kind of scary you know?"

"Artemis, please join us. Mother and I would like to speak to you and Grace." Draco gestured for his daughter to enter the bed chamber. Artemis scrambled from her aunt's lap and skipped into the room. Draco closed the door behind them.

"I guess they're going to tell them about the triplets," said Celeste.

"I suppose so. _Five_ grandkids. Lord, have mercy!" Angelique shook her head. Celeste nudged her shoulder.

"Girl, you know you always wanted a house full of grandbabies!"

"Yeah, but Épiphanie took on Grace and Artemis when she was _eighteen!_ I sure wasn't planning _that!_ "

"You ought to be glad, that at least she wasn't _giving birth_ at eighteen," Celeste retorted.

"Thank God for small miracles."

"I wonder what Maman and Papa would say if they could see you now, girl. You sho' married up!"

"Yeah, but you know I don't think they would have believed that this kind of magic could really exist, despite all of the rumors about Ma Mère. I think it would have frightened them just a little."

"You're probably right. I think Arthemie is still struggling with it just a bit." Celeste nodded. "But this is still so amazing! Your husband is like—the President! And I'll tell you what—magic, or no magic, that little white boy is crazy about our Épiphanie! These babies will want for nothing. Now, you did well—found your long-lost love and all, got yourself a fancy title too, but _Fannie_ —that girl married her some _money, honey!"_ The two sisters laughed in spite of themselves.


	33. A Real Malfoy

Grace wrapped the velvet and sable cloak more closely about herself and rested her gloved hands in her lap as she waited. The room was depressing. The damp stone walls seemed to absorb most of the light coming from the torches mounted above them. There were no windows. A rough wooden table, with two chairs on each side, was all the furniture in the space. She and Harry Potter occupied two of the chairs on one side of the table.

The metal door opened with a disturbing creak and Gregory Goyle was led in by a guard. Her brother didn't look much like she remembered him. Gone was the burly teenager who used to swing her up onto his shoulders when she was little. In his place was a man who had been beaten down by time, incarceration, and regret. His robes hung off of his frame, and his face, aged beyond his twenty-four years, was framed by long, lank hair.

He sat down heavily in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table. The guard pointed his wand, and Gregory's shackles were fastened to the table in front of him with a clank that made Grace shudder.

"Would you like me to stay?" Harry asked.

"Erm, no. We'll be fine." Her voice came out in a shaky whisper, and she cleared her throat. "Thank you."

"I'll be just outside," he said, giving her hand a gentle pat, and quietly left the room. The guard moved to stand beside the door.

Grace turned her attention back to her brother and gave him a nervous smile.

"Erm, hi."

"Y-you look well," he replied. His voice was hoarse and raspy, as if from lack of use. "So pretty, like Mother."

"Th-thanks. Thank you." She tentatively reached out. He extended his hands a few inches before the restraints held him back with another disturbing clank. She closed the gap, and clasped his rough fingers. He gave her hands a slight squeeze.

"Have you started school yet?" he asked. "Hogwarts?"

"Not yet. I will next fall," she replied, her smile brighter. She took a parchment from her robes and passed it to him.

"I hope you'll be in Slytherin." Gregory gave her a weak smile as he looked at her official letter. "I know you'll be smarter than me. I hope you make good friends too."

"Yeah. Well, Aamaal Shafiq—she's my best mate—she'll be starting school too."

"Shafiq. They're members of the Twenty-Eight, yes?" he asked. Grace nodded.

"Her father is reserve seeker for the Dragons. We're broom-kids for the Dragons."

"Do you play Quidditch?" he asked.

"I hope to try out when I get to Hogwarts," she replied. "If I make the Slytherin team, I'll be only the second witch after mum—I mean—" she faltered.

"It's okay." Her brother squeezed her hands. "You can call them Mum and Dad if you like. That's what they are. Mother would have wanted that. She liked Draco." Grace nodded, they were quiet for a moment. Gregory spoke again. "You have a sister?"

"Artemis."

"Her parents were my mates in school."

"Yeah. I know."

Gregory let out a sigh. "Gracie. We all made stupid choices when we were young. Vincent and Draco and I listened to our fathers. Draco was the only one who realized that what we were being taught was wrong, and he tried to change in the end. Our father went to his death still believing in the old, dark ways. We've ruined the name of Goyle. I don't want that for you. I'm really impressed with the life that Draco has made for himself and for you and your family. You're smart, and pretty and talented. Make us proud and honor the name of Malfoy."

He gave her hands another squeeze as the guard stepped forward, indicating that their time was up.

"I love you, Grace Malfoy." Gregory Goyle gave his sister a weak smile before he lowered his head and shuffled out of the room.

* * *

Grace rested her chin in her hands as she sat on the crooked steps of the Burrow on Christmas day and let out a sigh, watching as small children chased one another around the tree and adults laughed and chatted amongst themselves.

The Burrow was bustling as usual, with the ever-expanding Weasley clan—including all six of the surviving Weasley children, current spouses (which were up to five), and their children. Baby Albus and Baby Rose were the newest arrivals. The Shacklebolt family was also present, including Angelique's sister, Celeste, who was thrilled to pieces to meet Molly, and the Malfoys had also become regular fixtures at the holiday festivities, everyone doting on Épiphanie as she reclined in a deep chair with her feet on an overstuffed ottoman.

"Hiding out?" She looked up to see Harry descend from the next level and take a seat beside her. She shrugged and continued to watch the action below. Artemis and Teddy were entertaining James, Dominique and little Molly, by changing their hair and faces while Victoire chased a miniature hippogriff around the room.

"No. Just—"

"Sometimes the Burrow can be a bit overwhelming at times. I get it." He patted her knee and made to stand.

"Uncle Harry?"

"Yes, love?" he sat back down.

"Do you ever feel like you don't fit in?" she asked. Harry let out a snort.

"You're asking me?" He leaned against the wall. "Seemed like my entire life I wondered where I fit in. But everyone has to find their own place in the world. Where's this coming from?"

Grace let out a sigh and looked at her hands. "I don't know. I just— It's nothing. Never mind. Thank you, by the way—for taking me to Azkaban."

"Is that what this is about?" Harry asked. "Did your brother say something to upset you?" Although the stairway was dim, Grace could see the way his green eyes darkened.

"No! Gregory would never, but—well, Mother and Father will have the new babies soon and—I'm just a leftover. I'll never be a real Malfoy like the new baby—no, make that babies." She poked at her boots with her fingertip. "Leave it to Mum and Dad to never do anything the simple way."

"But you know that Draco and Épiphanie love you and Artemis very deeply and nothing would ever change that."

"No. I know. Gregory even told me that I shouldn't feel guilty for calling them Mum and Dad. He says the Goyle name is tainted by what he and Father— _our_ father—what they did." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "What if in the end, I'm no better than the rest of my family. I'll never truly be a Malfoy will I?"

Harry raked his fingers through his hair and flattened it again. He stood up and offered her his hand. "Come on. There's something I want to show you." He led her through the crowded sitting room, pausing only to whisper briefly in his wife's ear. Grace followed him into the kitchen where he passed her the pot of floo powder.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Grimmauld Place."

When they stepped out a few minutes later, Grace still looked at him curiously. The lights of the Christmas tree cast the sitting room in a dim rainbow of flickering colors. She stepped carefully around discarded toys as she followed him out to the hallway.

"Why are we here, Uncle Harry?"

"Have you ever been in the drawing room here?" he asked, leading her up the stairs to the next floor.

"Umm, I don't think so. Why?"

Harry slid open the doors and flicked his wand, lighting the chandelier. She looked around the room. Like most of the rest of the house, the furniture was dark and finely upholstered, reminding her of many of the rooms in Malfoy Manor. In this room, however, the walls were draped in an ornately woven tapestry.

"This is the family tree of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

"Okay," she said with a shrug. "Soo…"

"So, many of the oldest pureblood families are interrelated, Grace. If you look, you'll see Bulstrodes, Flints, Lupins, Macmillans, Prewetts, Longbottoms, even Weasleys and Potters." Harry moved slowly around the room, pointing his wand and illuminating names on the tapestry.

"Why are there burn marks on the tapestry?" Grace asked.

"Well, unfortunately most of the older generations were pureblood supremacists. Whenever a member of the family was discovered to be a squib or believed a blood-traitor, they were disowned and removed from the tree. If you look there, you'll see Aunt Andromeda, Teddy's grandmother was burned off when she married a muggleborn."

"Wow!"

"But that's not what I wanted to show you. Look there—that's Irma Crabbe…and there—Charis Black married Caspar Crouch and had three children—"

"That's Mother!" Grace cried. She ran to the wall, and traced her fingers over the woven image of her mother's face. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. "There's Father and Gregory, but…where am—"

"You see that vine twisting away?" Harry pointed to a thin branch that grew away from the rest of her birth family.

Grace trailed her fingers along it until it wrapped around a branch that grew between Draco and Épiphanie Malfoy. A single sprout with Artemis' image grew up beside hers. She looked back at Harry in surprise.

"Whenever you're in doubt about who you are or where you fit in, remember this moment, Grace. You are a real Malfoy."

* * *

 _Dear Aamaal,_

 _I hope your holiday has been lovely so far. Mine has been typical. Christmas Eve in London with Ma Mère and Le Pépé, and Christmas Day with the Weasleys. We do every year. It's pretty cool though. Their family is HUGE, and everyone seems to have a baby. Harry Potter and his wife have a new son, but I guess you already knew that, since it was in the papers. You probably also know about Hermione Granger-Weasley and Ron Weasley's new daughter too. Their niece, Victoire and my sister Artemis are best mates—Teddy Lupin too._

 _No, my mum hasn't had her baby yet. She's really tired and moody because the healer says she has to basically stay in bed from now on. If you know anything about Mum, sitting still is NOT her style. Normally, we go to London for New Year's Eve and Mum and Dad go to the ball at the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but since she can't go, everyone's coming out to the Manor—Ma Mère, Le Pépé, The Potters and Weasleys—just everybody, basically. My gran probably won't come. I don't think she really likes it here, and she_ hates _being around lots of people any more, but Auntie 'Dromeda and Teddy will probably come._

 _I'm boring you with all that. I wish you weren't in Goa. If I could, I would certainly invite you to come. I'm going to ask Mother and Father if you can sleep over after the match in January. Ask your parents._

 _Well, Pippy has brought my cocoa, so I suppose I should end this now and settle in. If I don't hear from you before then, Happy New Year. I can't wait to see you at the next broom-kids training._

 _Always,_

 _Grace Malfoy_

* * *

"No, I want to come downstairs. I'm about to go _insane_ up here!" Épiphanie declared. She sat at her vanity carefully plaiting her hair in meticulous rows over her crown, then gathered the ends and twisted them into a bun on top. Draco stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders giving them a squeeze.

"If you're certain, my love. You know that everyone understands, and we could expand the sitting room—"

"This is our bedroom, Drake. I don't mind receiving guests, but honestly, it's beginning to feel like a prison." She grimaced, touching his hand. He gave it a squeeze and leaned down to place a kiss on her temple. He smiled at her reflection and waved his wand. A box appeared on the bed, tied with a bow.

"I was certain that you would say that, so I got you something." She turned on her seat, and he brought the box, placing it on her knees. Épiphanie pulled the ribbon and opened the box to reveal a delicate white gown of Egyptian cotton trimmed in lace with a matching velvet duster.

"You know, Drake, every little occasion does not require the purchase of a gift," she said, lifting the peignoir set from the box.

"Of course it does, my beloved." He took the box and vanished it. "It's tradition."

"Yeah, and our kids are spoiled! I'm not terribly happy about that," Épiphanie replied, pulling the gown over her head in general disregard of her original statement.

"You don't believe our children deserve the best of everything?" Draco asked, fastening his cufflinks.

"I think that our children deserve the best of _us._ The rest is just details. The world doesn't owe them anything, and it's important that they understand that. Didn't you notice how Grace has been moping lately? I've been trying to get her to talk to me. It has to be hard for her with all the talk of the new babies—her brother is in prison, her birth parents were murdered, and her adopted parents are very nearly as notorious."

"Perhaps, but she seemed to perk up after Christmas. I saw her talking to Harry for quite some time while we were at the Burrow. She's a Malfoy. She'll adjust. It's what we do." Draco picked up his brush and drew it over his hair before tying it back into a ponytail.

"Well, I don't want her _or_ Artemis feeling neglected in all the chaos surrounding the new babies. Talk to her, please. I know you guys have a special bond." Épiphanie pushed herself up with difficulty, and Draco grabbed her hand, helping her to her feet. He held the dressing gown, and she slipped her arms into the sleeves as he drew it up over her shoulders.

"I will. I promise." Draco slipped into his waistcoat and gave her a peck on the lips as he fastened the buttons. "Let's take the floo down. I don't want you to fuss with walking down the stairs."

* * *

Artemis peeked through the curtains of the drawing room and Teddy pulled them open wider.

"What are all those lights out there?" he asked.

"Beats me," she shrugged.

"Come away from the window, dears," said Andromeda. When the two children turned away, she flicked her wand to secure the curtains against any onlookers.

"Is there someone out there, Gran?" asked Teddy.

"Just reporters wanting to know about Mother," replied Grace. She flounced into a chair and opened a bottle of butterbeer. Just as she lifted it to her lips, it was summarily removed from her hand by Angelique. "Ma Mère!"

"Not for you, miss!"

"Pépé, tell her that _everyone_ drinks butterbeer! It's not like muggle beer!" Grace appealed to Kingsley, but when the Minister opened his mouth to take his granddaughter's defense, his wife shot him a baleful glare. He shrugged helplessly at Grace, who pouted. Her dismay was short lived however, as George placed a warm mug of cider in her hand as he took a seat beside her.

"My _special_ recipe." He whispered, touching his nose. "Only one mug though. I know she's not magical, but somehow, I think your gran would actually find a way to hex me if you get drunk. Enjoy!" he winked.

Grace sipped the cider, which was the perfect temperature and tasted of citrus and spices. She felt a fuzzy tingle immediately and looked around the room filled with family and friends. There was a lavish buffet laid at one end of the room and a small scattering of tables draped in white and silver cloth. Teddy, Victoire and Artemis sat in a huddle playing exploding snap. Harry and Ron, along with Dean Thomas all sat on the chesterfield holding the newest additions to their families—Albus Potter, Rose Granger-Weasley, and Emma Finnegan-Thomas—as Arthur Weasley took their photo. Meanwhile, James, Dominique, Molly, along with Eli, who was Dean and Seamus' son, crawled around in an expanded playpen.

The fireplace flared with a whoosh of green flames and Draco and Épiphanie stepped out. He led her to a chaise longue and helped her to get comfortable as Molly, Angelique, Celeste and the other women immediately gathered about her.

"How are you feeling, love?" asked Molly.

"Ugh! Like Moby the whale!" Épiphanie declared. "I am soo ready for this to be over!"

"I completely understand, my dear. When I had—" she faltered. "When I had Fred and George, there were days that I just wanted to hex everything and everyone! I think those two were causing mischief even before they arrived, it was like a boxing match inside my belly!" she laughed.

"This is the easy part, bebelle. It's the next eighteen years that are the _real_ test!" Angelique exclaimed with a chuckle.

"Here! Here!" Molly concurred.

"You just make sure to put Draco to work!" Hermione instructed. "There's nothing that says wizards aren't allowed to change nappies."

"Ha! I'd give my wand to see Draco Malfoy change a dirty nappy!" said Ginny.

"Well, my friend, how are you holding up? Épiphanie looks right miserable, yeah?" asked Ron.

"I shall certainly be happy when it's all over. I do hate seeing her so uncomfortable." Draco sipped his vodka.

"Don't worry, mate. She hasn't hexed you yet. You're doing well, I'd say." Harry clapped him on the shoulder.

"Just make sure her wand's out of reach when it does come time," said Ron with a chuckle.

"You forget, Weasley, she doesn't _need_ a wand," Draco gave him a slightly worried look before emptying his glass.

"He's doomed!" Dean laughed.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." Draco stepped away from the group to where Grace sat alone, sipping a mug of cider and eating a slice of cake. "My dear Charis, won't you join me for a moment, please?"

"Yes, sir." He beckoned for her to follow him, and they crossed the foyer to the library. The room was dark, save for the flickering fireplace. Draco lit the lamps and turned to his daughter. "Is something wrong?" Grace asked. She couldn't think of anything she'd done wrong, except maybe sneaking down to the potions laboratory in the cellar and accidentally spilling a jar of Moonseed. She was certain she'd cleaned up all of the mess and was hoping to escape the holiday without punishment.

"Not, at all my beloved butterfly. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Oh. Okay." She looked at him expectantly, and he took her hands.

"I'm sure that by now, you've heard over and over about the war. When we were young, I did a lot of things that I am not proud of. Our fathers—Lucius and Gideon, along with others—they hurt a lot of people, and for a while I believed that was okay. Then, a time came when we were all in too deep, and there was nothing but uncertainty. We didn't know from one day to the next whether we would be the next to fall. I never thought that I would see the day when I would become Lord of Malfoy Manor, or marry and become a father. When Mother discovered you, and we brought you here, suddenly that fragile dream began to look like a reality. You are the eldest of this Malfoy generation, my love." He reached into his pocket and drew out a slender box. "I've had it refashioned. I was going to wait until you went away to school, but I can think of no better time to give this to you."

Grace opened the box to find the locket he'd given her on her sixth birthday. The front of the heart-shaped pendant was now encrusted with diamonds.

"Open it," he said. She did so. The inscription had been magically re-written.

"Lady Grace Malfoy, Forever My Darling Daughter." She looked up at her father, blinking back the tears in her eyes.

"I did promise you something with diamonds when you were older, did I not?" he smiled.

"Thank you, Father!" she threw her arms around his neck. "I love you!"

"I love you too, my darling!"


	34. Arrivals

The windows began to rattle as the lights flickered and the fireplace flared. Grace gave her father a look of trepidation.

"I think it's time!" he exclaimed. They rushed back through the foyer and into the drawing room just as Épiphanie let out a howl.

"Right then, all hands on deck!" Molly commanded. Angelique and Celeste moved to help Épiphanie to her feet as she moaned in pain.

"Wait! Andromeda, shall we?" They let go of Épiphanie's hands, and Molly and Andromeda pointed their wands, levitating the longue just above the floor. The rest of the wizards and witches parted the furniture in the room so that they could exit easily. "Draco, send for the healer, dear."

"Oh, right!" He shook off his stupor and cast a patronus.

"Are the babies coming?" Artemis asked.

"Yes, darling," Hermione replied. "Are you excited?"

"Can I watch?" she asked, her hair turning orange.

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Hermione. "But while we wait, would you like to give Rose her bottle?"

* * *

When they arrived in the bedroom suite, Healer Abingdon was just stepping out of the fireplace, followed by Poppy Pomfrey.

"I thought it best, under the circumstances, to have reinforcements," she said. "Right then, out you go, Father." She began shepherding Draco towards the door.

"But—"

"No! I want him to stay!" Épiphanie protested.

"We don't generally allow fathers to attend delivery. They rather have a tendency to get in the way and become faint. Everything will be okay, love," she replied.

"Actually, Florence, it might be a good idea in this case to allow him to stay. Mother is an unusually powerful witch, and he does have a knack for keeping her calm," said Madam Pomfrey. Just then, another contraction hit Épiphanie, and she groaned loudly. The windows began to rattle anew as a vase of flowers on the mantelpiece shattered.

"Oh, my!" the healer exclaimed.

"Dracooo!" Épiphanie wailed, squeezing her eyes shut, as she clutched her gown. He moved immediately to her side and took her hand.

"I'm right here, beloved. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"Right then, Poppy, you have the potions?" the healer asked.

"Here we are."

"Good. Alright love. Just sip this little concoction. It'll help ease some of the pain. Come on," she took the goblet and offered it to Épiphanie. Draco took the cup and lifted it to her lips.

"Drink up, Ma Zirondelle." He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. Épiphanie opened her eyes and exhaled slowly, taking a sip. "That's good. Come on. A little more."

* * *

"I want to see the babies!" Artemis demanded, heading for the drawing room doors.

"They're not here yet. Why don't you go back and play?" Grace said. She tipped up her mug, but her cider was gone. She grimaced and got to her feet, surprised to find herself unsteady. She looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed, before taking slow careful steps to the buffet where she snagged a bottle of butterbeer and a handful of crisps.

"So, George, what's the pot look like?" Harry asked.

"I'm sorry, what?" George gave him an innocent look, and tapped the left side of his head, where his ear was missing.

"Oh, go on, then Weasley," said Kingsley. "There's betting pools all over Britain, and I've never known you not to take chances on a good thing. Everyone knows you and Fred took bets on whether Harry would survive the first task of the Tri-Wizard." He grinned and sat down at the chess board Ron had just set up.

"You what?" Harry looked at George in astonishment.

"Well, _clearly_ you survived," George argued. "How do you think we paid for the butterbeer at the party that night?"

Harry tried to scowl at him, but barely managed before his frown cracked into a grin.

"So? How much is it?" Neville asked.

"Well, the total take when I closed the betting this afternoon, was up to 2000 Galleons. That's after my cut, of course. There's about six lots still left in the draw, so that's about three-hundred galleons apiece if they all pick the same. But that's just on the date and time of birth."

"For each baby?" Kingsley asked. "No one knows it's triplets, right?"

"Ah! No! I forgot about that! Welp! I suppose if the others get the time of the other births right, they still win, yeah?"

"Wow, triplets!" Hannah exclaimed. "Épiphanie's certainly going to have her hands full."

"That makes _five_ children. Ha! She's practically a Weasley!" Ginny laughed.

"I expect Draco will probably hire a nanny," said Hermione.

"You think she'll let him?" asked Seamus. "Épiphanie doesn't strike me as the type not to be fully involved in raising her children." He rocked his daughter.

"'aving a nanny doesn't mean you can't be ee-nvolved vith your kids, Seamus," said Fleur. "Dominique! Non! Nous ne frappons pas, ma cher!" She chided her toddler, who had just struck Eli with a toy.

"Dean!" Seamus called to his husband to check on their son. Dean went to the playpen and lifted the crying boy into his arms, calming him while Fleur lightly scolded Dominique.

"I'm sure Épiphanie and Draco will be fully involved, but I also know Épiphanie is _itching_ to get back on her broom. She's missed practically the entire season," said Ginny.

"Well, _you_ missed most of last season," said Hannah.

"Yeah, and look who snagged the League Cup because of it!" she said derisively, pointing to the large silver cup which was prominently displayed in a case beside the door.

"I can't believe it. This is really us!" Hermione exclaimed. She looked around at her circle of friends, rocking babies and chasing toddlers. She adjusted the burp cloth on her shoulder as she gently patted her daughter's back. "It's so…normal. It almost doesn't feel right."

"You'd rather be running for your life?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, Merlin, no! It just seems so—"

"Unexpected," interjected Seamus. "As if we couldn't have hoped for a life like this."

"Yes, that's it. Unexpected." Rose burped loudly. "Oh, my _goodness!_ Mummy's little darling! That's better isn't it?" she cooed.

"So, 'annah, when will you and Neville be expecting?" asked Fleur as she returned to her seat. Tickety and Diggy appeared with trays of champagne and the guests realized that the hour was nearly upon them. They each took a flute as they continued to chat.

"Oh, I don't know. We're in no particular hurry. Tom has announced his intent to retire, and I'm planning to take over the Leaky Cauldron as landlady. Between London and Hogwarts, we'll be pretty busy, I think. Plus, we rather like our lifestyle as it is." She fingered the silver band about her neck. Seamus gave her a knowing look.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as I seem to have become your host vicaria," Kingsley stood, raising his glass. "Please allow me to express our appreciation to you for joining us in celebrating the end of 2005. May 2006 bring us continued health, prosperity and peace. The hour is nearly upon us, so please raise your glasses and let us begin our countdown." He looked at his watch. "Ten…"

"Nine…" the group joined in. "Eight…seven…"

* * *

Sweat dotted Épiphanie's brow as Celeste and Angelique supported her beneath her arms. Draco and Molly held her hands as she balanced on the birthing chair. Madam Pomfrey and Healer Abingdon knelt in front of her.

"You're doing brilliantly, love. Just breathe. Now when I count to three, I want you to bear down as hard as you can," the healer instructed.

"I love you, my darling," Draco whispered in her ear. "I am you, and you are me!"

"One…two…three! Bear down, now!"

"Uunnnngh!" Épiphanie groaned, gripping Draco's hand tightly.

"OH! _Merlin!_ " Draco quietly hissed as a pain reminiscent of a Cruciatus curse shot through his center. His knees felt weak, and he struggled to remain standing, swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat.

* * *

"…three…two…"

Suddenly the room shook and several of the window panes cracked. The smaller children whimpered, and their parents rushed to calm them. Moments later, a silvery ball of light appeared in the room and formed into a tiny dragonfly.

"It's a girl!" Draco's voice breathlessly exclaimed as the clock in the foyer chimed midnight. The group let out a cheer and raised their glasses.

Five minutes later, another dragonfly appeared, declaring the birth of another girl.

* * *

"I'm…so…tired…" Épiphanie panted weakly. She was on the bed now, and Draco knelt behind her, gently rubbing her back as he kissed her damp hair.

"I know, my darling. It's almost over. We have two _beautiful_ little girls. You're nearly there."

Épiphanie slumped against him, closing her eyes with exhaustion.

"You can't sleep just yet, Mother. Our last little one is waiting to make its debut. I know you're tired. Just hold on a bit longer. Daddy, you're going to have to help her with this one, I think." Healer Abingdon pushed up her sleeves and summoned her wand, waving it in an intricate motion over Épiphanie's belly. Celeste and Angelique supported her knees and gripped her feet, and held them apart. On the other side of the room, Molly and Andromeda assisted Madam Pomfrey with the other two newborns.

"Okay, on my count, Mr. Malfoy, you help her to sit up as far as she can, understand?"

Draco nodded, shaking an errant lock of hair from his face. His stomach still quivered as he shared his wife's pain, and his silk shirt stuck to his skin, dampened with sweat.

* * *

"It's been nearly ten minutes, now innit?" Dean noted. "I hope everything's alright."

Kingsley paced back and forth near the windows. The youngest children were asleep in two playpens side by side, while Fleur had conjured sleeping bags for Artemis, Teddy and Victoire shortly after the first baby had been announced. They lay in a row beside the cots.

The room had grown quiet as they waited for word, the women glancing occasionally at their own children. The men, clutching drinks, paced in tight circles. Suddenly the doors to the drawing room burst open, and everyone turned in surprise.

"Gran!" Grace exclaimed.

"Oh, dear! I'm afraid my portkey wasn't exactly properly documented," said Narcissa Malfoy. She gave Kingsley a sideways glance. He smiled warmly.

"Think nothing of it, Narcissa. I'm certain that Percy can sort everything out when the Ministry reopens after the holiday." He crossed to her and clasped her hands, looking over his shoulder at the young director of Magical Transportation.

"Oh, yes, of course!" Percy gave a perfunctory nod just as another dragonfly patronus appeared in the room.

* * *

 ** _Minister's Daughter Gives Birth to First Ever Magical Triplets!_**

 _Shortly after half-past midnight on this New Year 2006, the Minister of Magic appeared at the gates of Malfoy Manor and announced that his daughter, Mrs. Épiphanie Malfoy had given birth to THREE little witches! There has never been a record of any witch in the magicosm giving birth to more than two children at once, and this reporter posits that the Rule of Three has acted in a most unusual way!_

 _The first daughter, Aoede Clotho, rang in the new year with her arrival at midnight. Five minutes later, her sister Melete Lachesis, arrived in fine fettle. The last to arrive, at twelve-fifteen, was Mneme Aisa. The three girls are the first to be born in the new year. All three babies weighed in at 2.7K with an average length of forty-three centimetres. Mother and babies are reported to be doing perfectly well. Father, Draco Malfoy, was unavailable for comment, but is said to be thrilled with the newest additions to his family and requests privacy at this time so that they and their elder daughters, Grace and Artemis, may bond with the babies._

 _No photos are currently forthcoming, and we anxiously await the children's first public appearance. Congratulations to the Minister of Magic and the Malfoy family._

* * *

Draco stood looking down at the row of bassinets in front of him. The three tiny little girls lay sleeping quietly, swaddled in white blankets. He a raked his hand through his disheveled hair and let out a sigh of amazement.

"Your father wore much the same expression for days after you were born too." Her voice was soft as she approached. Draco spun around.

"Mother! You came!" He enveloped Narcissa in a tight hug which startled her.

"Oh! Erm, yes, of course I portkeyed as soon as your patronus arrived, my son." She patted his arm, and he released her. She smoothed her robes. "They are my grandchildren after all. You didn't tell me there would be _three._ "

"Well, we only learned just before Christmas that there would be triplets. It's quite astonishing." He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned his gaze once again to the infants.

"Indeed. The Rule of Three has never intervened in birth," she said, looking down at the girls.

"But, it is a blessing, right?" Draco turned to his mother, face etched with worry.

"Of course it is, Draco. Épiphanie is not given to dark magic, and I am more than certain that your wrongs have long since been redeemed. After all, look at the success you've made of yourself in these few years following the war. You've expanded the Malfoy empire and added your own profitable business to it. Goodness! You're the son-in-law to the Minister of Magic! Lucius could never have conceived of that coming to fruition if he'd planned it himself!"

Draco scoffed. "Had the Minister been anyone but Kingsley, he no doubt might have tried." He looked again upon his children. "Theirs is a world of peace, Mother. Grace wasn't born into that world, and Artemis was not conceived in it—did you know that Épiphanie helped to deliver her—in the second floor girls' lavatory at Hogwarts?" Narcissa let out a gasp.

" _Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?_ "

"Pansy was already pregnant when Lucius arranged that banquet, and desperate for us to be matched. Nott took advantage of her disappointment and broken heart by getting her to help steal my wand so that he could take Épiphanie's. She didn't know what he was up to. I didn't know until just before Artemis was born, that she was even pregnant." He sighed. Narcissa laid a hand on his shoulder. "Mother, they aren't of my loins, but Artemis and Grace are just as surely my daughters as these three. I feel as though fate brought them to me."

"Draco, they were brought to you because of fate, and because of _blood_."

"I don't understand. You know that Grace is Gregory Goyle's sister and I told you that I wasn't—"

"No, son. Remember that you are also of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Our family tree has many branches; among them you will find members of the Crabbe family and the Crouch family—Elvira's family, and Vincent's. To the world, Artemis and Grace are your children only on paper, but the blood magic that binds you is real."

" _Five daughters!_ " he breathed.

"Your wand hand must be steady and sure, my son. You must also remember to be careful of their hearts, and all will be fine."

"They are my happiness, my spirit of nature, and my muses. Let Merlin and the gods shower blessings upon thee."


	35. Nothing But the Best

"They are very beautiful aren't they? How old now?" said the young lady perched on the edge of her seat, folding her hands in her lap.

When the woman first arrived, Épiphanie was immediately reminded of Mary Poppins. On her head, she wore a smart brown hat with a large letter N embroidered upon the front of the ribbon band, her dark hair pulled back into a neat bun. Beneath a fawn-colored coat and white scarf, she wore a simple beige dress with a white collar and brown bow tie and belted waist, brown stockings and sensible brown brogues. A fob watch was pinned to her bodice and a brown cardigan was draped lightly over her shoulders.

"They are eleven weeks old. Thank you, Miss…" Épiphanie leaned over to look at the curriculum vitae in Draco's hand.

"Ah, Glover. Jessamine Glover."

"Miss Glover, yes. Thank you. How old did you say you were?" she asked. She gently rocked Aoede. Melete and Mneme rested quietly in baskets at their feet.

"I'm twenty-five."

"Twenty-five?" Draco looked at her curiously. "That would have put you in our year at Hogwarts. Forgive me, but I don't seem to recall you. What house were you in? I don't think I saw any mention of Hogwarts on your CV. Did you not return after the war?"

Jessamine cleared her throat. "I didn't attend Hogwarts, sir."

"Oh, you were homeschooled?" Épiphanie asked.

"No, ma'am." She sat up taller, squaring her shoulders. "I attended muggle schools."

"Oh, umm…okay." Épiphanie pulled a bemused face.

"Are you a…squib?" Draco asked.

"I am, sir. Both of my parents were muggleborn, and fled into the muggle world at the start of the first war. My sister, Beatrice, though magical, did not attend Hogwarts after her first year. Mother and Father educated her at home." She stuck out her chin. "I'm not ashamed of being a squib, Lord Salisbury. When the war ended, I thought I might find some useful way to integrate myself into magical society in spite of it. So, I thought I would become a nanny and seek a position in service to a family such as yours—one who moves about the magical and muggle worlds and requires a nanny with knowledge of both. As you see from my CV, I received my BA in Early Years Development and Learning. I have qualified as a Norland Nanny, and I am happy to provide the requisite references, if you are not averse to my muggle training."

"I'm sure that you are aware that my own mother is muggle. I was raised largely in the muggle world myself," said Épiphanie. "I don't believe that will be an issue. Will it, darling?" Draco shrugged and shook his head.

"I suppose not. Now then, Grace, our eldest, will soon be attending Hogwarts, so she will only be home for holidays and summer break. Artemis is seven, and of course there are the little ones." Draco continued to study her resume as he spoke.

"Yes. As you can see, my training includes physical care, supporting and providing activities for the all-around development of the children, cleaning and tidying of nursery, bedroom, playroom, and all household equipment related to the care of the children, laundering and mending clothing and toys, attending outings and transporting the children to and from playgroups and school, caring for them when they are ill, preparing for special events and birthday parties, as well as trips abroad, and other duties as discussed with the parents."

"Wow!" Épiphanie exclaimed.

"As you have spent most of your life in the muggle world, Miss Glover, I have to ask—"

Draco was interrupted as a small puppy bounded into the room and darted around the baby baskets before jumping up and placing its paws on Jessamine's knees, wagging its tail excitedly.

"Oh! You must get _down_ , immediately!" she said, sternly pointing her finger to the floor. "Puppies and babies do _not_ mix!" The puppy did not move immediately, but tilted its head to the side giving her a curious look. Jessamine knit her brow. "You're an odd one, aren't you?"

To her surprise, the dog nodded before stepping back and transforming into Artemis.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed.

"Miss Glover, this is Artemis, our second daughter," said Draco.

"Lady Artemis, it is a pleasure to meet you." She smiled.

"Hello. Do you like to build snowmen?" Artemis asked, giving a curtsy.

"I _do_ like snowmen. Do you like making snow angels?"

"I've never made a snow angel. Can snow angels _fly?_ " she asked.

"No. They aren't magical, but they are ever so much fun to make."

"Artemis, love, Mother and I are just in the middle of a discussion with Miss Glover. Why don't you go and ask Tickety to set the luncheon table. We shouldn't be much longer."

"Yes, Father. Will we make another ice dragon after lunch?" she asked.

"How about a sleigh ride? Just you and me."

"Okay!" She started for the door. "If you come to visit again, _we_ can go on sleigh rides too!" Artemis turned her hair white and skipped out of the room.

"I've never met a metamorphagus before!" Jessamine exclaimed. She's terribly adorable."

"She also has quite a talent for mischief, given her abilities." Épiphanie placed Aoede into her basket alongside her sisters. She whimpered a moment and closed her eyes.

"If you would give us a moment, Miss Glover?" Draco asked.

"Of course."

He waved his wand and cast a _Muffliato_ charm, turning to his wife.

"What do you think?" Épiphanie asked.

"She's a squib," he replied skeptically.

"Is that really a problem? Pippy can assist her. Even if she had magical powers, she'd need _some_ help. I don't know if I really trust some of the others we've interviewed."

"They _were_ a bunch of unpleasant crones, weren't they? Still, I just don't know."

"Draco, she's familiar with the muggle _and_ magical worlds, so she can even go with us to America. Besides, Artemis seems to like her," Épiphanie argued. Draco continued to look doubtful. "Sweetheart, she's a Norland Nanny. I've heard that they care for the children of the Royal Family and serve in some of the wealthiest homes in the UK."

"Really?" Draco asked, his expression changed as his interest piqued. Épiphanie shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"Jesus take the wheel! I really do try with you, ma bébé. Can we just offer her the job?"

"Fine. _Finite._ "

They turned back to Jessamine.

"Now then, Miss Glover, how does an annual salary of fifteen-thousand Galleons sound?"

"Th-that's _very_ generous, sir! Does that mean that I'm hired?"

"How soon can you begin?" Épiphanie smiled.

* * *

"Aunt Molly!" Artemis squealed as she and Draco entered the Manor after their sleigh ride. Her hair was snowy white to match her cloak.

"Well, don't you look the little snow queen!" Molly declared stooping to give the girl a hug.

"Father took me on a sleigh ride through the woods! We saw deer and foxes!"

"Did you now?"

"Uh-huh! Did you see the babies?" she asked.

"I did. Do you like being a big sister?" Molly asked her.

"I don't know. All the babies do is sleep and cry. They're too small to play with!" she complained.

"That's true, but they're growing every day. Before you know it, they'll be following you around everywhere begging _you_ to play with _them!_ " Molly chuckled. "Trust me—I have _lots_ of experience with that!"

"Tickety!" Draco called. The elf appeared immediately. "Would you see that the fires in Miss Artemis' rooms are well lit and prepare her something warm to drink?" He handed the elf his cloak.

"Yes, Master Draco. Would Miss Artemis like cocoa and tea cakes?" he asked.

"Yes, please! With marshmallows!"

"Run along and practice your lessons while you wait, love."

Artemis pouted, and gave him a plaintive look.

"Diana." He returned her sullenness with a pointed look.

"Yes, father." She turned and moved quickly, but with less excitement than she'd shown when she'd entered the house. Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Molly chuckled again.

"Don't worry. They all go through it, and they all grow out of it." She smiled. "Then there's some other phase for them to worry you with, but soon enough, they're off to Hogwarts, and you're left with a quiet house filled only with photos of them as they are now, and you wonder where the time went!"

"With your growing brood of grandchildren, I doubt your house will ever be empty for long, Molly." He returned her smile. "Thank you so much for all you've done. Will you stay for tea?" he asked.

"Oh, thank you, dear, but I must be going. Arthur will be home soon."

"Another time." He walked her into the library, and offered her the vessel of floo powder.

"Certainly. Take care, dear." She stepped into the fireplace and disappeared.

Draco made his way up to the master suite where he found Épiphanie stretched out on the divan, her eyes closed, one hand hanging towards the floor. The babies lay quietly in a row of baskets a few feet away. He bent to place a kiss on her forehead. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

"I didn't mean to wake you, beloved," he whispered.

"It's fine," she replied, sitting up. "Did Artemis have fun?"

Draco made a sheepish face and ducked his head.

"Draco Lucien Malfoy, what did you _do?_ " Épiphanie sat up, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Nothing, really. Only, I might have promised to teach her to ice skate." He wandered over to the baskets and looked down to see Mneme staring up at him. She gave him a smile. He bent down to pick her up. "Hello, my princess!" he touched her nose as he held her close. She grabbed his hair.

" _You_ know how to ice skate?" Épiphanie asked incredulously.

"Of course I do. We used to skate on the pond down near the grand conservatory during winter holidays." His face took on a faraway look, and he nuzzled his daughter, stroking her pale hair.

Tickety appeared with a tray of tea and scones.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Épiphanie asked as she poured a cup of tea.

"You don't already know?" he smirked. She grimaced. "Kidding."

"I'd much rather you told me yourself." She leaned back, tucking her legs beneath her as she sipped her tea.

"Well, I was just thinking of those days. It seems so far away now—a different place in time—before it all went wrong. In hindsight, I guess it always was wrong—in theory. We thought we owned the world and the world owed us everything—me, Pansy, Blaise…Goyle, Crabbe…Nott." He frowned. "They were supposed to be the _right sort_ of friends. I remember saying something like that to Harry the first time we met." He scoffed. "He told me he could tell the right sort for himself, and thus began our ridiculous rivalry—all because he was absolutely correct."

Draco kissed Mneme's forehead, gently. "I solemnly swear that I will do everything in my power to see that you and your sisters learn from my mistakes. Yours will be a world of peace and love, and protection—always." He kissed her again. "Their complexions are getting darker," he remarked.

"Yeah. They look like little scoops of chocolate ice cream with whipped cream on top."

"There will be no mistaking the Malfoy girls, that's for sure."

"I dunno, Grace will be able to blend in fairly easily," said Épiphanie.

"She's growing taller, like Gregory, and there's no mistaking those eyes," he replied. Mneme let out a soft yawn and closed her eyes. Draco laid her gently in her basket and looked over her sisters, who continued to sleep quietly. "They're so peaceful!" he exclaimed.

"They're so well-fed!" Épiphanie retorted. "You're on diaper patrol for the next six hours, Lord Salisbury."

"Thank Merlin for magic," he muttered.

"I heard that, mister." She yawned and stretched. Draco leaned down to kiss her forehead.


	36. Switch

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

 _I would like to meet with you on this Friday at noon, if your schedule permits. I wish to discuss a matter of some importance. Lunch will be provided. I await your owl confirming the time._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress_

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

* * *

Draco inhaled the crisp February air as he made his way across the castle grounds to the main entrance on the day of his appointed meeting. He was curious as to the nature of the meeting. There was no indication that Grace was in any trouble. He was certain that Professor McGonagall would have mentioned such a thing, or summoned him immediately had that been the case. He looked up to see a group of students making their way towards the castle past the greenhouses. Although they had their cloaks pulled close against the cold, Draco was able to recognize Grace walking alongside Aamaal Shafiq. The eleven-year-old was slightly taller than most of the other Slytherin and Ravenclaw girls as well as a few of the boys. Her green leather gloves were clearly visible. A group of boys followed them, laughing and behaving raucously.

Draco was just about to raise his hand and call out, when he noticed a boy with a familiar, pug-like face raise his wand and point it at her. Draco whipped out his own wand, but Grace was quicker, spinning around and casting a shield to deflect his spell.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Draco snarled. He caught the boy's wand as he strode forth.

"Parkinson!" Neville bellowed, approaching the group from the nearest greenhouse.

"Father? What are you doing here?" Grace asked with surprise.

"Twenty points from Slytherin!" Neville declared.

"Well! Young Granville, I presume," Draco said coldly. "It's been quite some time. Since _when_ do we attack our _own_ housemates?" Granville gave Draco a disdainful look and pursed his lips. Draco returned his gaze, his lips curling into his trademark sneer.

"Mr. Parkinson, if you know anything about the Malfoy family—as I am _certain_ that you do—you would do well to remember that we adhere _strictly_ to the pureblood code of honour. Attacking a lady—tsk tsk. That is a most grievous insult! While it is clear that Lady Grace is more than capable of defending herself, another such unprovoked attack upon your _niece's sister_ , shall be considered a challenge to the house of Malfoy. I sincerely doubt that Silas is up to the task of facing me on the field of honour." He raised a brow. Granville continued to glare defiantly for a moment, before backing down with a scowl.

"Lord Salisbury," he nodded. Draco turned to Neville, handing him the boy's wand.

"Professor, do forgive me for usurping your authority. I shall leave it to you."

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Malfoy. Stop by my office if you have time, before you depart."

"Of course." Draco gave him a nod and turned to the girls with a smile. "Ladies, would you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you out of the cold?" He offered his arm, and Grace and Aamaal each set their hands in the crook of his elbows.

"What are you doing here, Father? Is everything alright at home?" she asked, anxiously.

"Of course, my Charis. The Headmistress summoned me for lunch and a meeting." He gave her a reassuring smile as they stepped into the Entrance Hall.

"Oh," she looked down at her feet as she removed her cloak. "Is this about my detention?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"See you in Charms, Aamaal?" she said to her friend.

"Sure. It's nice to see you again, Mr. Malfoy," said Aamaal.

"Miss Shafiq. Always a pleasure." Draco smiled, giving her a slight bow before turning his attention back to his daughter. "Well?"

"Granville attacked me because I hexed him before winter break." Grace looked up at him, sheepishly.

"And?"

"He's still smarting because I bested him in our dueling practical for Defense Against the Dark Arts." Draco closed his eyes and pinched his brow, remembering a similar experience, as she continued. "He insulted me and said that I was Death Eater scum that nobody wanted, and that I'd never be a real Malfoy. So, I hit him with a conjunctivitis curse. Professor Weasley assigned me detention for two weeks, which I was to serve after the holiday."

"I see."

"I'm sorry, Father." Grace toed at the stone floor. "I know I'm supposed to stay out of trouble ahead of the interview with Witch Weekly." Draco regarded her for a few seconds before he spoke.

"Mother and I do expect that you will present your best face for the press Grace." She nodded meekly. "That being said, I am most impressed by the fast response you had to Parkinson, my dear! I saw him point his wand, and I'd barely managed to draw my own before you'd cast your shield!" he smiled and gave her a wink. She shrugged sheepishly in response.

"He was taunting me as we walked up the path. I—I looked into his thoughts, and was about to embarrass him when I realized he was about to hex me."

"You demonstrated cunning and acted in the interest of self-preservation. How _very_ Slytherin!" he gave her a hug.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy! Thank you so much for coming!" Professor McGonagall swept into the Entrance Hall, followed by Harry Potter.

"Potter." He nodded at Harry.

"Malfoy." They shook hands and Harry smiled at Grace. "Hello, Grace."

"Uncle Harry!" she gave him a hug.

"Shall we?" Professor McGonagall led them into the Great Hall.

Lunch was a pleasant affair. A few first-year students dared to approach and request autographs when they entered, and to their surprised excitement, Draco and Harry politely obliged them. The two wizards chatted amiably with the staff, while attempting to tune out the obvious pointing and whispering of the students in the Hall. The proud father delightedly showed off photos, but Draco and Harry both started, going for their wands, when a flashbulb went off in their faces. Minerva gave the bold student a disapproving look that sent him scurrying back to the security of his friends, who waited by the door. Draco chanced a glance over to the Slytherin table where he saw Grace roll her eyes.

"Perhaps inviting a Quidditch star and The Boy Who Lived to dine publicly was not the wisest idea," she said.

"It's quite alright, Headmistress. Do forgive my inappropriate reaction," said Draco.

"Mine too," said Harry. "Although Moody always said 'constant vigilance'."

"I must admit, Headmistress, I am more than a bit curious as to the reason for your invitation. My first thought was that Grace's behavior might have come into question, but I can't imagine why that would necessitate a conference with Potter. Is it an issue of security?"

"Oh, no! Grace is no more or less mischievous than any other student. She's perfectly fine—and safe. If you gentlemen would like to accompany me to my office, I'm happy to discuss everything with you both."

* * *

Once they were seated around a small table in the Headmistress' office with light desserts, she clasped her hands and leaned forward.

"As you may know, Elphias Doge passed away just before Twelfth Night," she said. Harry nodded.

"Yes. Plans are underway for his funeral, I understand."

"I'm sorry. With the babies, I've not had much time to spare for reading the Prophet. That is most unfortunate news," said Draco.

"It is," said McGonagall. "As such, his death now leaves us with _two_ seats available on the Board of Governors.

"Naturally, they are keen for Potter to assume one of those positions, I would presume," said Draco.

"Naturally." She turned to Harry. "I know that many organizations have approached you since the war, asking you to put your name to their cause, Harry. I understand your reluctance to accept, but I was rather hoping that Hogwarts might be a more special case. You are one of a few people who truly understand the importance of keeping the school as an inclusive institution of learning that challenges students to think openly and support one another. Since the end of the war, with so many orphans, this place has become the most familiar home many students know at all. Please consider it."

Harry toyed with the clasp of his robes for a moment before speaking.

"Does the Board understand that I have my own opinions, and that I expect them to be heard and seriously considered? I'm not a poster boy or a Ministry lackey, Minerva. If I accept this seat, I will take the position seriously and expect to be treated as such."

"Does that mean that you accept?" she asked.

"I'd like to talk it over with Ginny first, but I'm almost certain that she'll urge me to say 'yes', so I'll accept."

"Excellent! Now, Draco—"

"You aren't seriously about to suggest that the Board wants _me_ to fill the other seat?" he said.

"Actually, Draco, the Malfoy seat has been vacant since Lucius' rather unceremonious resignation from the Board in 1993. It was my idea to ask if you would like to resume it."

"And the other Governors are in agreement on this?" Draco asked. "As Harry is concerned with being taken seriously, I myself have had quite enough of the mistrust and animosity attached to the Malfoy name. I do not intend to come into this with the same ideals as Lucius, and I expect to be granted the benefit of the doubt."

"Draco, you are the father of a current student, and you have _four_ future Hogwarts students, whose well-being I am confident that you would place above your personal ambitions. I have seen the manner in which you and Harry have come together for the good of your business interests, and the philanthropic contributions that you have made to Hogwarts cannot be overlooked. I am concerned with the good of Hogwarts School and its future. I believe that the two of you are the best candidates to round out the Board of Governors. You are young. You both have first-hand knowledge of the war and the way it has affected the school. Whether you like it or not, you both wield a great deal of influence upon public opinion. I've discussed this with the Minister, and he agrees."

Draco lifted his eyes and looked over the Headmistress' shoulder, where his gaze landed upon the portrait of Severus Snape. His former mentor gave him a look of exasperation as he crossed his arms and nodded toward McGonagall.

"Alright then. I accept."

"Wonderful! I'll inform the minister and the rest of the Board. You shall receive an owl with all of the pertinent information that you will require within the next week. Thank you, gentlemen."

* * *

They made their farewells. Harry stepped into the fireplace to floo back to the Ministry. Draco left the Headmistress' office carrying presents from her for the babies. He shrank the parcels and placed them into his pocket as he headed back towards the Grand Staircase. He passed it and continued down the corridor until he reached a door featuring the herald of Gryffindor House. Draco rapped twice and the door swung open.

"You may enter."

He stepped in, and the door closed behind him with a soft click. Neville sat in a comfortable chair beside the fire.

"It's good to see you, my friend. Come, sit."

Draco neatly laid aside his cloak and took the facing chair. He looked at Neville, giving him a serene smile.

"You look well. Glad to get away from the Manor awhile?" Neville asked.

"On the contrary, I feel as though I may miss something. I'm certain Épiphanie is glad to be rid of me for a bit, especially with preparing for the Witch Weekly interview coming up. She says I'm hovering too much. The nanny we hired is working out very well though.

"Yes, I did see her at the girls' birthday. She was very attentive. What's she like?" Neville asked.

"She's a squib, actually."

"A squib? Hm. That's interesting."

"Well, she had quite a CV, and Épiphanie was very taken by her. Apparently she's been trained by the most prestigious muggle organization in Britain."

"Oh, she's a _Norland Nanny!_ " Neville exclaimed. "Their nannies are in service to the Royal Family and many of the finest families in the nation."

"How do _you_ know about them?"

"I actually took Muggle Studies. It's a required N.E.W.T. for all applicants to teach at Hogwarts."

"Ah. Of course you did."

"So, a nanny and an exclusive interview with Witch Weekly; I do hope Épiphanie is faring well?" Neville asked.

"Oh, you know Épiphanie. She's burning the candle at both ends, what with insisting on being an active mother and her rigorous training regimen. She's got such a drive to win—to get back on top—getting up at the crack of dawn to nurse the girls, then running, weights, flying drills—and all this before team scrimmage! Even with the nanny, she uses every practice break to check on them. She's so attuned to them. I don't know if it is because she is a legilimens, but she's turning to them before they can barely get out a whimper, and she knows instinctively just what they need. Her singing, Neville—it's so amazing! She sings in French, in Spanish, in so many African tongues, and Caribbean lilts, so softly and tenderly, the lullabies are magic in themselves!" Draco exclaimed.

"I shouldn't be surprised. She is incredibly talented and empathetic. It is perhaps why you were blessed with three."

"You think so?" Draco asked.

"Why so vexed, Draco? You've worked diligently to restore true honor to the name Malfoy. Celebrate your accomplishments, my friend." He leaned forward and touched Draco's knee.

"I'm twenty-six years old, with five children," Draco said with a hint of wonder in his voice.

"And a number of highly successful businesses, a fine home, an expansive vault, and the most beautiful wife a man could wish to have…at his feet."

"You do have a point," Draco replied. He smiled vaguely.

"So what is this anxiety? You look restless." At that statement, Draco gave Neville a measured look. "Ah, yes, of course. How long has it been?"

"Let's just say _far_ too long. Before, I think she took some measure of pity on me, entering my thoughts as I slept and providing me with some nocturnal bliss. But recently she gives me these derisive little smirks each time I head for the shower." Draco grimaced. "But how can I be selfish? She's borne my children after all—three of them at once—and she's managed to care for them all while continuing to fly in top form for the club!"

"I don't know if it's selfish to be in need of release, Draco. It's human nature."

"How do you manage, Neville, being so far from Hannah? Do you not wish she was here with you all the time?"

"Hannah and I are free to floo to one another when our schedules permit. It takes a bit of creativity, but we manage to make the best use of our time together. Your situation is different, my friend. It is temporary. This too shall pass."

Draco raked a hand through his hair. "You are correct." He stood. "In the meantime—"

"In the meantime," Neville rose to his feet. "Perhaps I could be of some assistance."

"How so?" Draco looked at him, nonplussed. Neville stepped closer.

"I know it's been some time, Draco, but I haven't forgotten." He fixed him with a measured gaze and placed his hand on his shoulder, his thumb idly stroking the side of his neck just beneath his jaw.

Draco's breath hitched as he remembered that day when they shared a kiss. The mere thought of it made his lips tingle, and he'd occasionally wondered what it would be like to do it again, perhaps taking things further.

"Perhaps we could be of some mutual benefit to one another," Neville whispered as he shifted his grip, curling his fingers around the back of Draco's neck and drawing him closer.

Draco's pulse was racing. He closed his eyes, remembering the very first time Neville had ever touched him.

 _…_ _The Gryffindor ran his hands lightly over the pale, sinewy skin of the Slytherin's back. He wrapped his arms around Draco, resting his chin on his shoulder, and traced over the long scars on his chest from the curse that had been inflicted upon him by another Gryffindor who had ultimately gifted him with mercy._

 _"_ _Please!" Draco choked out. His lip quivered. He could feel the jumper, worn soft over time, and the neat creases that made up the pleats in Neville's trousers against his bare skin…_

They were so close. Draco hesitantly reached out to Neville, placing his hands on the other wizard's waist.

"No blindfolds…no restraints," Neville whispered. Draco rocked his hips forward, letting out a sigh when he felt the evidence of Neville's want, and another memory flashed to the fore.

 _…_ _.Her tight muscles clenched around both shafts as they slid against one another, separated by the thinnest veil of flesh inside her. They were easily sated and before long, she was teeming with hot cum…_

"Can you handle that?" Neville asked. He dropped his free hand to Draco's waist and pulled their bodies together, placing small kisses along his neck. Draco shuddered, exhaling slowly.

"I—" he couldn't think straight as his body responded to Neville's attentions. "I've never—have—" he stammered.

"No, I haven't." Neville kissed along Draco's jaw, eliciting a soft moan. Their lips met, and Draco tightened his grip on Neville's waist, moving one hand to his ass and rutting against him as they kissed hungrily. Neville responded in kind, their erections straining through their trousers.

They shuffled to the couch and fell onto it. Neville continued to grind his hips against Draco's as he summoned his wand and cast a privacy charm. He flicked his wand again and they were naked. Draco clung to him desperately, his hands in Neville's hair as he kissed his neck. He lifted his hips to meet the Gryffindor's. Draco heard Neville murmur something unintelligible and a second later, felt Neville's slick hand close around his cock, gripping it tightly.

"Merlin!" he gasped as Neville began to stroke him. "Oh, fuck!" He pushed against Neville's chest until he sat back and straddled his legs, then he grabbed Neville's dick, sliding his hands up and down his pulsing shaft. Neville closed his eyes and rocked his hips against Draco's thrusting into his grip. He whispered the lubrication charm again and Draco felt his own hand become slick. He tightened his grip and matched Neville's rhythm, biting his lip as he looked up at him through his lashes. Neville's lips curled into a mischievous grin.

 _Instigosempra!_

Draco's prostate quivered and he arched his back, letting out a stuttering moan. As Neville went to drop his wand, Draco grabbed it with a malevolent glare.

 _Instigosempra!_

"Ohhhh, fuck!" Neville moaned. He leaned forward, gripping Draco's shoulder, and digging his nails in.

"Two can play that game!" Draco hissed through gritted teeth. "Fucking Merlin!" He felt himself reaching the edge and lengthened the strokes over Neville's prick, alternating his fingers as he slid them over his long shaft while he thrust his hips upwards in Neville's grip.

"Shit! Godric, Merlin and Morganna!" Neville swore. He stiffened and spilled over Draco's hand. Seconds later, he felt Draco do the same, and he collapsed on top of him, reaching down to touch his wand. " _Finite Incantatem!_ "

The only sound in the room for several minutes was the crackling of the fire and their breathless panting as they lay catching their breath. Finally, Neville sat up and licked his fingers.

"Fuck, Longbottom, I always knew you were a slut!" Draco exclaimed, watching him in surprise. Neville shrugged.

"Course I am." He picked up his wand and cast a cleaning spell before reaching for his clothes. Draco summoned his and did the same. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I erm—I suppose. It was just a rub-off anyway." Draco stepped into his trousers.

"Well, I considered a proper shag, but I didn't know if you would want that, or if you could handle it." Neville buttoned his shirt.

"I thought you'd never—" Draco looked at him, hesitating, his hand stretched out for his waistcoat.

"I haven't—at least not with a bloke." Neville pulled on his trousers and returned to his chair by the fire, sitting back to watch Draco finish dressing.

"Hannah?" Draco asked, finally picking up his waistcoat and shrugging it on. He sat down to pull on his boots. Neville nodded. "Will you tell her about this?" he asked.

"Most likely. There are few secrets between us. What about Épiphanie?" Neville asked.

"I suppose I'll have to. I don't think I've ever lied to her—not successfully. I couldn't if I wanted to. Keeping secrets from a legilimens is dangerous. I learned that years ago."

Neville let out a mirthless chuckle. "I remember. It's probably best you do tell her. I still live too close to the Black Lake to have her angry with me again." He glanced at the hookah on the mantelpiece.

Draco tightened the laces of his boot and stood. Neville did the same. He summoned Draco's cloak and helped him into it. They stood, hands in pockets for several minutes.

"Thank you, Neville. For this—for everything. You've been a good and faithful friend, in spite of our past." He extended his hand, but Neville embraced him instead, placing a soft peck on his cheek.

"There is no need, my friend. Every day that we open our eyes is a second chance. Why waste it denying someone else the opportunity to make it right? That's no way to honor the gift we've been given."

They made their farewells and Draco left the castle. When he reached Hogsmeade, he stopped into Dominic Maestro's Music Shop for a closer look at a music box displayed in the window. The instrument featured a round case with ornate carvings and an ivory crank handle. The top of the box featured five small witches holding ribbons attached to a maypole. The shopkeeper cranked the box and the girls began to dance around the pole to the delicate music.

"I'll take it," he said. "This one too," he added, pointing to another music box which featured a couple waltzing together. The shopkeeper offered to send the items by owl, but he declined, casting an extension charm on the pocket of his cloak and placing them inside.

* * *

Draco left the shop and prepared to apparate, when he noticed something near the platform at Hogsmeade Station. He walked up the street, and realized as he came closer that it was a statue. He was unprepared for the sight of what the statue represented as he approached and read the plaque on the base.

 _This monument is dedicated_

 _to the memory of_

 _Philomène Legendre_

 _And_

 _Lucas Prewett_

 _They courageously sacrificed all_

 _in defense of wizardkind_

 _September 6, 1971_

He stared up at the remarkably accurate bronze sculpture that featured him as Prewett, stirring a cauldron, while Épiphanie, as Legendre was depicted with wand hand outstretched in a dueling stance, her robes flourished in suspended animation. Harry and Ginny were the only ones they'd ever told of their adventures in time a few years earlier. It had to have been placed recently, as he'd have remembered it while attending Hogwarts, and he had no doubt that it would have been destroyed during the Death Eater occupation. He wondered if Grace had seen the monument. She wasn't yet eligble for Hogsmeade weekends, but the statue was clearly visible from the train platform where students boarded the Express. Did she not recognize them? If Professor McGonagall and Neville had not mentioned it, their disguises must have been more convincing than he'd ever thought.

He walked around the statue, looking up at the figures as he recalled the night that they'd faced down the younger Voldemort and faked the deaths of the Hogwarts teachers they were impersonating. As he traced his fingers over the inscription, he could still see the dark mark in the sky above them as they lay at the edge of the lake. His reverie was interrupted by a disturbance. He looked up to see a number of people near the newsstand talking loudly and pointing in his direction. Despite the Malfoys' prewar notoriety, over the last few years, Draco had become more famous as a Quidditch player. Although the entire wizarding world knew his wife, he still found himself occasionally besieged by witches with designs upon becoming the naughty little secret of Wiltshire Dragons Seeker. He pulled up the hood of his cloak and disapparated.


	37. Baby Blues

**_Witch Weekly—The Magic of Three_**

 _March 3, 2007—What it must be like to have the life of a princess, most of us will never know, but the five daughters of Épiphanie and Draco Malfoy must certainly have an idea. The triplets, Aoede, Melete and Mneme were born as the world rang in 2006. In addition to being the first children born in 2006, the three are the first ever magical triplets in recorded history!_

 _Epiphanie Malfoy, the daughter of Britain's Minister of Magic, and her husband, Draco Malfoy, who is the owner of the Wiltshire Dragons Quidditch Club, as well as one of Europe's oldest Apothecaries, are also the Earl and Countess of Salisbury. Witch Weekly was over the moon to receive an invitation inside the gates of Malfoy Manor for a peek at life with the power couple and their family._

 _The young Quidditch stars have consistently made headlines over the last few years, beginning when they were students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Minister's daughter, newly arrived from America stunned many with her second public appearance, where she joined her then future husband in exhibiting her exhilarating broom prowess, and was later spotted toasting with Harry Potter and other veterans in Hogsmeade. Much of the wizarding world still viewed Malfoy with suspicion following the second war._

 _Draco has since crafted quite a new reputation as owner and starting seeker for the Dragons and as a doting father to adopted daughters Grace and Artemis, whom the couple rescued from escaped Death Eaters. The girls are frequently seen accompanying their father in Diagon Alley and notable locations across Europe. One can only assume the same will soon be said of the family's newest additions._

 _We arrived at the Manor and were greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, each holding the infants, and Artemis, who happily held the hand of the family's nanny, Jessamine Glover. Absent was Grace Malfoy, who is currently a first-year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where she resides in Slytherin House. (See pg. 110 for an exclusive interview in our Today's Young Witch feature)_

 _The children's delightful suite is decorated in muted greens and peach with an elaborate mural, that decorated even the ceiling, painted by noted artist and family friend, Dean Thomas. We were delighted by the painted fairies and dragonflies flitting around the borders of all of the rooms of the suite. Three cots draped in sumptuous bedding sat in a row beneath wall plaques of each girl's initials._

 _"_ _No, we've been pretty well able to tell each of them apart," says mum, Épiphanie. "They all seem to have begun developing distinct personalities already."_

 _"_ _That is very true," concurs dad, Draco. "Mneme—she's the youngest—is the quietest. Still, she seems able to let you know exactly what she wants. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if she's a legilimens," he laughed. "Aoede loves music. She quiets promptly when Épiphanie sings to them, and she is the first to sleep if we play their music box." He pointed to the maypole box on the bedroom mantelpiece._

 _"_ _Melete is our little investigator," said Épiphanie. "We often find her wide awake and watching everything with interest. When I talk to her, she seems to be attempting to make conversation, her little mouth trying to mimic ours!"_

 _When asked her opinion of her little sisters, Artemis had this to say. "I think they'll be more fun when they can play with me, but they like it when I make faces at them." The young metamorphagus promptly turned her blue hair bright orange and grew bunny ears._

 _After tea with the family, we were given a tour of the grand house and expansive estate, which boasts a dance studio where the children will be taught ballet and social dances by their mother, an elaborate hedge maze that even Theseus himself would be reticent to attempt, and a number of conservatories featuring a vast array of magical plants, many of which, Draco explained, had been cultivated by his mother, Narcissa, whose singular passion is herbology and horticulture. Narcissa Malfoy currently resides at the family's villa in Spain, though she has visited often since the birth of the children._

 _Witch Weekly was thrilled to be granted permission to publish the first photos of the adorable Malfoys, with their trademark platinum hair and their mother's golden complexion and peculiar, soulful eyes. Our photographer had a ball photographing the magical trio whom we are certain will, along with their sisters, most certainly grace the pages of publications for quite some time to come!_

* * *

When the reporter and photographer had finally departed, Miss Glover put the triplets down for a nap and took Artemis to the drawing room for a music lesson. Draco followed Épiphanie into their suite and wrapped his arms around her waist. She shrugged him off and pushed open the doors to the balcony, stepping out into the crisp afternoon. He trailed after her and summoned a blanket, wrapping it over her shoulders.

"My darling, you'll catch a chill," he said, attempting to embrace her once more.

"I'm fine, Draco." She looked out over the gardens below. An owl took off from the aviary and circled above the gardens before swooping down and taking a small animal in its claws.

"What's the matter, Dragonfly? Please come inside," he implored. She heaved an exasperated sigh and stepped back into the warmth of the room. Draco shut the doors and turned to her. "Talk to me?"

Épiphanie made a point of taking a seat in one of the side chairs, ensuring that Draco could not sit beside her. She crossed her arms and looked squarely at him.

"How long do you plan to wait before you tell me what happened between you and Neville? No—" she held up her hand as she watched his expression flicker between guilt and annoyance. "I didn't invade your thoughts without your permission. I didn't have to, Draco. You went to Hogwarts and came home full of talk about Grace, Harry and the Board of Governors, and bearing gifts for the children and me. Yet, you don't say a single word about your best friend? Your _Sir?_ I can only infer one of two things—either you had a falling out—but somehow I feel like you'd want to talk to me about that—or something more intimate took place between you. Am I right?"

Draco let out a long sigh and nodded. "I just didn't know how to tell you, my beloved."

"Wow, Draco." Épiphanie shook her head. She slumped back in the chair with a huff. "So what happened?" Draco moved to her, kneeling in front of her.

"It's not what you—it wasn't a proper shag." He knew even as he spoke that his explanation was feeble at best.

"Okay, so…were you playing? What? What was it?" she asked.

"I don't _know,_ Épiphanie! I—it just happened! It's you I really want, but it's been so long and—"

"You are _not_ fucking turning this around on _me_ , Draco Malfoy!" she leapt to her feet, pushing past him and summoning her wand. Draco gripped his own wand as he fell backwards, casting a disarming spell before she could point it at him.

"No, my beloved! I would never—I just—" he sighed, getting to his feet. "This thing with Neville, I don't know. It's been a long time coming, but it's no more or less than all of the other things we've done with our circle. I didn't plan for it to happen like that. I got carried away before I knew it and I let him get me off." Draco approached his wife cautiously. "I love you Épiphanie. We are bound to one another." He embraced her, but she did not reciprocate.

"I can't look at you right now, Drake." She pulled away from him, tugging her wand from his hand as she did so, and stepped into the fireplace, disappearing before he could stop her.

* * *

"Épiphanie? Come in! This is a surprise!" Dean pulled the door wide and stepped back to allow her to enter. He gave her an air kiss to avoid soiling her clothes with his paint-splattered hands and smock. The smell of baked goods hung in the air.

"Épiphanie!" Seamus exclaimed as he emerged from the kitchen carrying Eli, who clutched a large cookie. He placed him in a playpen near the window with his sister, and crossed to give her a hug. "What brings you into the city, macushla? Getting some Mommy-time? Would you like a cookie? They're fresh baked!" he offered as she sat down.

* * *

"Where's Draco?" asked Dean, tossing his smock aside and wiping his hands.

"Draco fucked Neville," she said.

" _He what?"_ Dean stared at her, mouth agape.

"Wine. We need wine," said Seamus, running back to the kitchen.

" _Not_ Fuoco Serpentino!" Dean and Épiphanie exclaimed together.

"Start at the beginning," Dean instructed once they each had a glass in hand. A plate of cookies sat on the coffee table. "When did this happen?"

"Last week."

"Last week? How did you find out?" asked Seamus. Épiphanie explained about the trip to Hogwarts and how Draco had avoided any mention of Neville when he returned.

"He always sees Neville when he goes to Hogwarts. There was no way he didn't spend time with him on this visit." She took a long swallow of her wine. "He tried to explain it away by making the excuse that I haven't given him any—"

"Bloody hell!"

"No, he didn't!"

"Yes, he did, honey! And then he said it wasn't a 'proper shag'. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Like that makes a difference!"

"Soo, wait a minute. You don't know what they actually did?" asked Dean.

"Well, no." She reached out and snagged a cookie, taking a bite. Emma began to whine and Dean went to pick her up, summoning a bottle from the kitchen. He pointed his wand to warm it and offered it to the infant. She sucked on it eagerly.

"Well, if he says it wasn't a proper shag, they may very well not have done anythin' but rub one off," said Seamus. "I'm totally unsurprised ta learn Draco's a switch, but I'm havin' a hard time seein' him take another bloke, and there's no _way_ Neville's gonna bottom for _anyone_." He topped off their glasses.

"I couldn't care less who was on the bottom, Seamus. That's not the point."

"But to be fair, you've had _everyone_ in our group, Épiphanie. What difference does it really make that Draco and Neville tried one on? Didn't you all even have a threesome in the clubhouse at the arena?" Dean lifted Emma to his shoulder, gently massaging her back to burp her.

"That's different. Draco initiated all of those encounters. He was there."

"Aww, love!" Seamus exclaimed.

"So _that's_ what you're mad about," said Dean.

"I beg your pardon?" Épiphanie crossed her arms and looked indignantly at her friends.

"You're not mad that they hooked up. You're mad that you didn't _know_." Dean bounced his daughter on his knee and made faces at her.

"Yeah. So?"

"Auntie 'Piphanie is _jealous_ swee'pea! She didn't get to watch Uncle Neville shag Uncle Draco!" Dean teased as he grinned at his daughter. Épiphanie scowled.

"Be glad you're holding your kid, Thomas. Otherwise I'd hex you." He blew her a kiss and she made another face, draining her wine glass and refilling it.

"But, Épiphanie it doesn't seem as if Draco was sneakin' around behind your back, an' he had every intent of tellin' ye wha' happened."

Épiphanie scoffed.

"Épiphanie, Draco is _not_ going to leave you. He'd move heaven and earth for you. For Merlin's sake, he fought off hundreds of dementors for you! If Voldemort came back tomorrow, he'd probably try to jump in front of his wand for you too," said Dean.

"Assumin' she didn't beat him to it," Seamus added, smiling. Épiphanie grimaced, thinking of the fact that she had actually done that very thing during their leap through time. He set down his wine glass and wrapped his arms around her. "Draco loves you, macushla. He didn't think. Neville has that effect on people—kind of like you. Tristan and Iseult ye are. The way I see it, ye've got two choices. Go home and make Draco grovel for yer forgiveness then shag him till he forgets his name, _or_ hex the shit out of him and Longbottom and shag the sexiest bloke ya know!" He grinned, planting a kiss on her cheek. Épiphanie smiled reluctantly.

"Yeah, you're not shagging our best friend, babe," said Dean. Épiphanie laughed.

"It's a little late for that now," she pointed out. They all laughed, lifting their glasses.

* * *

Draco sat at his desk swirling the melting ice cubes in his glass. He studied the cut crystal double old-fashioned in the firelight and sighed as the clock struck ten o'clock. Épiphanie had yet to return and he was beginning to worry. He had taken the floo to Antares Hall immediately after she had departed, only to find it empty. He wasn't sure where she could have gone. His first thought was to go to her parents' house on the other side of the park, but that would necessitate an explanation he didn't want to go into. He decided the same would be the true of fire-calling any of their friends, so he returned to the Manor to wait…and wait.

There was a knock at the door and he started, knocking over his glass in his haste to stand. Jessamine poked her head in the door.

"Yes, Miss Glover?" he waved his wand to clean up the mess and sank back into his chair.

"My Lord—" Draco cringed at the mention of the title, but the nanny seemed to take no notice as she continued. "Lady Artemis has had her bath and a story. She's in bed. I went ahead and gave the babies each a bottle, as Lady Salisbury has not returned. They've all been bathed and put down for the night."

"Thank you, Miss Glover."

"Right then, good night, Lord Salisbury." She curtsied and turned to go.

"Good night, Miss Glover—ah by the way, we aren't quite so formal here. Malfoy is perfectly fine. I'm not my father."

"Yes, sir. Good night, Mr. Malfoy." She withdrew.

Draco took his glass and went to the shelf where his select liquor decanters sat on a silver tray, pouring himself two fingers of scotch. He looked longingly at the hookah tucked behind the bottles and wished that he could lose himself in some prime hashish. Of course, given the wreck he'd made of his relationship the last time he did so, he knew it wasn't worth it, particularly given that it was Neville who had sold him the highly potent cannabis. Épiphanie had only threatened Neville last time, but if Draco were to get high this time, after everything else he'd done to upset her, she'd probably murder him. He sighed and downed the scotch. Draco leaned on the shelf and rested his forehead on his arm.

"Please come home, beloved." He whispered. The flames in the fireplace glowed bright green and Épiphanie stepped out. Draco spun around. "Épiphanie!"

He rushed forward, but stopped himself before pulling her into his arms. "I'm glad you came back," he said.

"We should talk." Épiphanie moved unsteadily towards the shelf and picked up a decanter. She poured a glass of cognac, spilling a bit as she did so.

"Are you drunk?" Draco asked as she stoppered the bottle and licked her fingers.

"Yep!" She turned and raised her glass in salute. "Cheers." She lifted the glass to her lips, but Draco took it from her.

"I think you've reached your limit, beloved. Please, let's just talk about this." He tried to pull her into his lap as he sat down at the desk, but she resisted. "Ma Zirondelle—"

"Don't. Not right now." She crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of the desk. "Do you remember the night before the bachelorette party? When you gave me the necklace?"

"Of course I do, I—"

"I asked you how deep your relationship with Neville was, Draco. Are you in love with him?"

"What?" Draco sat up now.

"It doesn't bother me if you're bisexual, Draco." Épiphanie's voice hitched as a tear slid down her cheek. "But I can't compete with someone like Neville. If you're in love with him—"

"I'm not in love with Neville!" Draco leapt to his feet and took Épiphanie's arms. She pushed him away, but he held her tightly. "Épiphanie, it was a mistake! I wasn't thinking. I _do_ remember the discussion we had that night. Nothing has changed with me, with him, and _especially_ not with you. Neville and I care about each other, and yes, our relationship is special. It's different than with the others, yes, but _you_ are my wife. Neville could never compete with you! You're my beginning and my end. I can't _breathe_ without you!" He pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers and kissing her insistently. "I love you, Ma Zirondelle," Draco whispered against her lips. "I need you!"

Finally, her resolve broke and Épiphanie began to kiss him back, tangling her fingers in his hair. Draco lifted her onto the desk and pushed up her skirt as he trailed kisses over her neck, his fingers lightly trailing over her legs.

"I never meant to hurt you!" he whispered. He pushed her knees apart and tugged at her panties. She lifted her hips and he slipped the lacy bottoms away, his fingers quickly returning to her pussy, massaging her clitoris. Épiphanie bit her lip hard. She didn't want to give in so easily, but her body betrayed her. It _had_ been a long time since they had shared their passion with one another, and she couldn't deny that she had missed Draco too. She rocked into his hand and let out a soft sigh. He touched his wand and their clothes were whisked away.

Épiphanie closed her eyes and let her head fall back as Draco kissed and nipped along her shoulder and sucked on her neck, eliciting a moan. "Oh, God, yes!" She continued to run a hand through his silky tresses as he worked his fingers inside her, his thumb still moving over her clit, and trailed a line of kisses over her throat and down the center of her chest. Suddenly, her eyes flew open as his lips closed over her nipple.

"Draco don't!" she exclaimed. The sweet taste filled his mouth just as Épiphanie grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at the breast milk dribbling over his wife's dark skin.

"Merlin! It's like a fountain!" he murmured. Épiphanie groaned. She swept her hands over her chest and let out a small sigh of relief as her breasts lightened a bit. Draco looked back over his shoulder and noticed a once-empty carafe on the shelf was now filled with milk. He turned back to her, brushing his lips over hers uncertainly.

"Just…don't touch my boobs," she said, nipping his lip. Draco let out a whinging growl. She rolled her eyes, and he deepened the kiss, grabbing her hips and pulling her to the edge of the desk. He pushed her backwards until her back was against the cool leather inlay and sank his cock into her with a rough thrust.

"Ah!" she cried out. Draco grabbed her thighs as he thrust over and over. "Yes!"

"Fuck, I missed you, beloved! Shit! It's like our first time all over again! So fucking tight and slick!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh my god! Oh!" she cried.

Draco leaned forward and wrapped his fingers around her throat, slowing his movements. He pulled back and stroked her slow and hard, rising up on his toes for leverage. Épiphanie arched her back, wrapping her legs about his waist. He relaxed his grip on her throat and she took a rasping breath.

"Is this what you needed?" His voice was low and husky with desire. "Did you miss me too?"

"Yes!" she breathed. "Ohhhhh! Yes!"

A soft buzz could be heard as objects around the room began to vibrate. Draco thrust harder and faster. He tightened his grip on Épiphanie's throat. She dug her nails into his skin, raking her fingers down his back as she clenched tightly around his shaft, pulling him in with her legs.

"Ssss! Fuck! Oh, fuck! I love you, ma Zirondelle!" Draco closed his eyes as he inched ever closer to the edge. He gasped at the sound of a hiss issuing forth, and stared down at Épiphanie.

" _What was before is left behind; what never was is now; And every passing moment is renewed._ _Draco my love, my alpha, my omega, my beginning, my end; in you I live and I die, for if we should fall, let us fall together!"_

And with that, Draco was completely undone. He shuddered his release and gripped the desk as he slumped forward. Épiphanie dropped her legs and sat up, resting on her elbows. He took her hands and pulled her into his lap as he retreated to his chair.

"You've never done _that_ before," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

"What?"

"You don't know?" he inclined his head to look at the perplexed expression on her face. She shook her head. "You were speaking in parseltongue, my love!"

"Oh, damn!" she laughed somewhat hysterically. "Thank you, baby!" she giggled.

"For what?" Now it was Draco's turn to look confused. She turned and gave him a kiss.

"My boo thang fucked me so good, he had me speaking in tongues!"


	38. Babies on Board

_January 2008_

Ginny adjusted her sun hat and reclined in her beach chair, digging her feet into the sand.

"I could use a swimsuit like that," she said. Épiphanie opened her eyes and looked out to where Grace and Aamaal emerged from the water. The young Ravenclaw was covered from head to toe in a modest swimsuit that consisted of ankle-length leggings, a matching long-sleeved tunic with a flirty hem that flared over her hips, and a fitted head covering that tucked into the neckline of the tunic. The black outfit had bright yellow accent stripes.

"It is kind of cute, isn't it?" she replied.

"Beats reapplying a sunblock charm every hour. At least James and Albus take after Harry."

They looked over to where the children played in the sand a few feet away. The band of friends was in Jamaica at the Shacklebolts' vacation home, celebrating the new year and the triplets' second birthday. Draco and Ron sat amongst the toddlers, Emma, Albus, Rose, and the triplets, building a sand replica of Hogwarts castle. James and Eli darted back and forth at the edge of the water, dodging the surf with Dean while Artemis and Teddy were snorkeling with Neville and Seamus. Meanwhile, Hermione, Ginny, Hannah and Épiphanie reclined on beach loungers beneath large umbrellas.

"Speaking of which," said Hermione. She picked up her wand and pointed it at her daughter. She squirmed and giggled. She flicked her wand again and Ron looked up with a start.

"Thanks, love!" he called, pulling down the bucket hat on his head.

"Where would he be without you?" Ginny snorted.

"Still living at the Burrow." Hermione grimaced. "Is it me, or did the ackee and saltfish put anyone else off?"

"Now that you mention it, I've felt a bit blah myself," said Ginny. "Of course, I'm not typically inclined to spicy foods."

"Well, I woke up feeling a bit unsteady. Seems to be wearing off now, though. How about you, Hannah?" Épiphanie asked. Hannah shrugged, shaking her head.

"I'm fine. Of course, I've survived the pea soup at the Cauldron, so one could say that I have a cast iron stomach," she chuckled. "You guys sure you aren't pregnant?"

"God, I hope not!" Épiphanie scoffed. The team is in fourth place right now.

"Me either. Even if we _are_ in second place, the rookies are chomping at the bit for someone to go on maternity leave." Ginny grimaced.

" _All_ of us pregnant? That would be an unbelievable coincidence!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Well, all three of you couples _live_ in the headlines. People would think you'd planned it," Hannah laughed. The other three witches joined her with somewhat less enthusiasm.

* * *

Grace swung her shoes loosely in her hands as she and Aamaal walked side by side at the edge of the surf. The moon reflected on the dark water above the deserted beach, the only other light coming from the lanterns hung about the gardens of the house several yards away.

"Thanks for inviting me, Grace. This has been fun," said Aamaal.

"I'm glad you came. It's kind of boring sometimes, being the oldest kid.

"It's better than being the only girl. This is the first time, other than school, that I've been allowed to go abroad without my father or my brothers." They spread a blanket on the sand and sat down.

"Guess it doesn't hurt that your best mate's dad is your dad's boss," said Grace.

"And that his other boss is the Savior of the wizarding world, who's also along on the holiday." Aamaal chuckled.

"I guess I shouldn't complain about our Auror escorts anymore." Grace slid her feet into the warm sand, curling her toes in the cool damp sand underneath.

"Yeah, but that's different. Your grandfather is the Minister, after all."

"That's true. By the way, did I ever thank you for the gift? I really like it." Grace smiled. "I'd thought we had a copy of _A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions_ in our library. I've been searching for it for a while. Father said it was probably misplaced during the war."

"Well, I know how much you like to read, and I thought it would be some help in Duelling Club this term. I can't believe you read nearly half of it on the flight."

"I didn't think you noticed; you were so anxious the whole time. I didn't think I'd ever get you out of your seat."

"I've never traveled by airplane before. We always go by portkey," replied Aamaal. She pulled her knees up to her chin.

"We used to, before the triplets, but Mum and Dad don't really trust portkeys. I think something went wrong a couple of years ago when they went on a trip to America. They don't talk about it, but now they only take a portkey when they don't have any other choice." Grace shrugged. "Besides, with this many little kids, a flight was probably best. At least we took a charter instead of flying commercial. We did that once. It was _awful!_ "

"Wow, you are really spoiled!" Aamaal exclaimed.

"Says the witch with the collection of bespoke matha patti tikka!" Grace nudged her shoulder. She reached up to lightly touch the jeweled headpiece that adorned the other girl's hijab. "I like this one. Sapphires suit you."

"I like the one you gave me. How did you think of it?" Aamaal asked, thinking of the jeweled piece that featured a stylized profile of an eagle with a sapphire and pearl wing that swept backwards in a graceful drape.

"I drew it after I saw a picture of Rowena Ravenclaw in a book at the Manor. Then I took it to the jeweler."

"You _drew_ it?" Aamaal looked at her in surprise.

"Well, I mean, I can't quite draw like Uncle Dean, but…" Grace bit her lip as she raked the sand with her fingers. "Actually, the original picture was of you." She looked out at the pounding surf.

"Me? Really?"

"Well, I was watching you in History of Magic and…erm…I was kind of wondering what your hair looks like. You know, underneath your…" Grace bit her lip.

"Oh, well, erm…" Aamaal smiled nervously. "Would you like to see?" Grace turned to her in surprise.

"Well, only if it's okay."

"There's nobody out here, and we're both girls, so I don't see why not." Aamaal reached up and carefully removed the matha patti, tucking it into her pocket. Both young witches sat cross-legged facing each other, their knees touching, and Aamaal slid the scarf from her head. She draped the fabric over her shoulders and removed the pins holding a long, dark braid in place. She carefully unwound the braid and shook it out.

"Wow, it's long!" Grace exclaimed. "It reminds me of Mother's hair. I wish mine was curly." She reached out and touched the wavy tresses.

"I like your hair. It suits you," said Aamaal of the asymmetrical bobbed cut that framed Grace's face. "I like the way you tilt your head when you're nervous and hide your face…like you're doing now." Aamaal's fingers brushed Grace's cheek as she reached up to tuck the other girl's hair behind her ear, and Grace caught her hand.

They sat like that, staring into one another's eyes. Grace bit her lip and fought the urge to use her powers to discover what the other girl was thinking. She held her gaze and leaned forward, holding her breath. Aamaal shifted closer and Grace closed her eyes.

"Girls!" Draco's voice called out in the darkness. "It's time to come inside!"

They leapt apart and Grace looked over her shoulder. "Coming!" she called. When she turned back to Aamaal, the girl was busily covering her head once again. They stood and shook out the blanket, picking up their shoes. Grace heaved a sigh and tucked the blanket under her arm as they turned back to the house. As they started up the beach, Aamaal slid her hand into Grace's and gave it a squeeze. She smiled and hid her face behind a fringe of hair.

* * *

 ** _It's a Boy for Malfoy #6!-_** _September 12, 2008_

 _The Wiltshire Dragons had much to celebrate last night. The number six seeded Quidditch club defeated the number two, Cushendall Chimaera despite being without their starting Seeker, Draco Malfoy. Reserve Seeker, Mahmoud Shafiq edged out Cushendall Seeker, Parthena Quinn for a final score of 800 to 650, pushing the Dragons into cup contention at number four. When the last season ended, the team was in seventh place, having lost their starting Chaser, Épiphanie Malfoy in February, following the announcement of her second pregnancy. Both Malfoys were conspicuously absent from the sidelines during the match, and it was announced during the half break that the witch was indeed in labor._

 _Dionysus Rex Malfoy was born at half-past seven in the evening at Malfoy Manor. The Viscount Salisbury, weighed in at 3.6K with a length of 48 centimetres. Mother and baby are said to be doing well. The birth of young Malfoy brings the family's number of children to six, with older sisters Grace, 13, Artemis, 9, and triplets Aoede, Melete and Mneme, aged two. Mother and Father certainly have their hands full!_

 _Malfoy is the third celebrity baby born this year. Golden Trio fighters Ronald Weasley, and wife Hermione Granger-Weasley welcomed son, Hugo earlier this month, and Harry Potter, who is also Co-Owner of the Dragons, and his wife Ginevra, starting Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, welcomed their third child and first daughter, Lily, in August._

* * *

Grace folded the paper amid numerous pats on the back and well-wishes from her fellow housemates and glasses of pumpkin juice raised in salute from classmates in other houses as well as the staff table. She looked over to the Ravenclaw table and met Aamaal's smiling gaze. The other girl winked at her, and she smiled back, tucking her hair behind her ear. Granville Parkinson dropped into a seat across from her, flanked by his cousins, Edmund, also a third year, and Levi, a sixth year. He sneered, spearing a sausage with his fork. She scowled at him.

"So, Lord Salisbury finally gets an heir," he drawled. Grace stared at him impassively. "Sucks to be you, doesn't it?" Edmund and Levi snickered.

"Sod off, Parkinson!" said Raphael Zabini. "You're just pissed because your sister never achieved her goal of becoming the Mistress of Malfoy Manor."

"Figures the nephew of a serial killer would take up for the Death Eater orphan," Parkinson retorted. "So what'll it be, Malfoy? Now that the Viscount has arrived, is it the attic for you, or will you have to join the little beast of a sister in the paddock?" He snickered and took up his juice, giving Grace another sneer as he drank.

Grace gave him a look of disdain as she took her silverware and calmly began to eat her breakfast. Granville gave a start and ducked suddenly, letting out a yelp.

"Merlin! Where did that come from?" He ducked again. The other Slytherins seated nearby stared at him curiously.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" asked Edmund.

"Get them off!" Granville fell off the bench and drew his wand, pointing it at the pixies he saw attacking him. He fired a stunner which narrowly missed Levi, who leapt from his seat in confusion.

"Mr. Parkinson!" Professor McGonagall rose from her seat. Nearby students took cover under the tables, older students casting shields, as Parkinson wildly fired spells and screamed in fright.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Professor Weasley disarmed the young Slytherin who continued to duck and swat at the invisible attackers.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ " Professor Longbottom pointed his wand and the young wizard went stiff, only his frightened eyes moving about. Students in other houses got to their feet, and some stood on benches for a better view as they watched him loaded onto a stretcher and levitated out of the Great Hall, followed by Madam Pomfrey and the Headmistress.

"What was that all about?" Raphael mused resuming his seat and straightening his tie. He looked curiously at Grace who had continued to eat calmly as the other students recovered themselves, talking excitedly about the spectacle that had just taken place.

"Clearly, he was hallucinating," she replied. "Mother always says 'God don't like ugly', and you can't get any uglier than his stupid pug face." Raphael choked on his juice. He lifted his napkin to catch the dribble on his chin as he laughed, but suddenly straightened and cleared his throat.

"Ahem. Good morning, Professor Longbottom."

"Miss Malfoy, my office please." He turned towards the entrance. Grace rolled her eyes and stood with a huff.

"Why's he angry with you?" asked Raphael.

"I have a pretty good idea," she replied, shouldering her bag and following the Gryffindor Head from the Hall.

* * *

"Well?" Neville crossed his arms once they entered his office. Grace raised her shoulders in response. "Grace, what do you know about why Mr. Parkinson began behaving as he did?"

"Maybe he mixed a bad potion." She shrugged dismissively. "I heard some Alihotsy went missing from Professor Brugmansia's store cupboard."

"That's an interesting observation, Grace. I'm curious, however. While everyone else was running for cover, you were sitting back like Albus Dumbledore, watching the proceedings with benign amusement." He raised a brow. "I _know_ your talent for legilimency, Grace. It is not a power to be abused. Do you know what Voldemort did to Uncle Harry?"

"I am _not_ a dark witch!" Grace shouted. "Parkinson deserved it! I'm sick of being treated with scorn because of my dad and brother!"

"You _will_ calm yourself, love," Neville replied, calmly.

"I'm sorry, Uncle." She sighed heavily and tucked her hair behind her ear. "He just gets under my skin all the time! He called Artemis a beast. She's his _niece_ for Merlin's sake!"

"I know it's difficult, Grace." Neville pulled her into an embrace. "I went through the same thing with your father, as well as Granville's sister. That's still no excuse for what you did. A legilimens as talented as you is a rarity, and since the war, highly regarded with suspicion. You don't want that. It is why your mother cautioned you against using your powers in anger or for revenge. Granville Parkinson is only echoing his father's ire and embarrassment over his sister. You're smarter and more powerful than Granville. There's no need to even rise to his bait."

"Yes, sir." Grace nodded contritely.

"Now, this conversation will remain between us, but I am deducting fifty points from Slytherin," he said. He rubbed her arms and gave her a smile. "Let them think it's because of Parkinson's wild spell casting."


	39. When Darkness Falls

The two cats raced across the castle lawn towards the Quidditch pitch, darting in and out of the shadows as they ran. Rubeus Hagrid lifted his lantern and looked in their direction, unsure of what he had just seen. The aging half-giant and Care of Magical Creatures professor peered into the darkness for a few more seconds before continuing on to the comfort of his hut and a warm bed.

The cats emerged under the canvas wall of the high stands and onto the pitch and looked around. They bounded across the grass towards the training rooms where one entered the Gryffindor tent and the other entered the Slytherin tent. Minutes later, Artemis Malfoy exited the Slytherin tent with her broom slung over her shoulder. Teddy Lupin appeared from the Gryffindor tent with his broom in hand and joined her.

"I told you it would work!" he declared.

"Hagrid saw us!" Artemis pointed out.

"Hagrid saw two cats running across the grounds. You're not backing out are you?"

"No!" Artemis gave him a defiant glare. She straddled her broom.

"Okay, last one to grab their broom or first to cast _Arresto Momentum_ loses," he said.

"And has to wear their hair in the other one's house colors for an entire day. _That's_ the bet!" Artemis insisted.

"You're gonna look so great with scarlet and gold hair," Teddy grinned, mounting his broom.

"Yeah, don't count on it!" Artemis kicked off and shot into the air. Teddy did the same and the two young mages raced one another around the perimeter of the pitch as they rode higher into the air.

The full moon appeared a spotlight as the teens spiraled into the air above the center of the pitch and pulled into backward loops away from one another.

"One…two…three!" he shouted as they began to dive.

Artemis released her broom and felt her stomach lurch as she began to fall. Teddy let out a whoop as he released his broom and fell.

"Oh, Merlin! I can do this! I can do this!" she chanted to herself, drawing in her arms and pointing her toes. She gripped her wand tightly, eyes focused on her falling broom. Ten seconds later, she felt the magic of her broom drawing her in and she was parallel to it. She grabbed the handle and hooked the footrests. The ground raced up to meet her as she continued in a vertical dive.

" _Arresto Momentum!"_ She heard Teddy shout somewhere to her left and Artemis pulled up hard on her broom handle. The toes of her boots carved divots into the grass as she pulled out of the dive barely a foot above the ground. She looked over her shoulder to see Teddy come to an abrupt hover about two feet off the ground before landing unceremoniously in the grass several feet away from his broom. Artemis pulled her broom about and dismounted at a trot.

"Teddy! Are you okay?" She ran to him, abandoning her own broom. He groaned and got to his feet, cheeks flushed as he brushed grass from his clothes.

"I'm fine!" he protested, shrugging her off when she tried to help him up. "You're crazy, Artemis Malfoy, you know that? I thought you were going to crash for sure!"

"I told you I could do it!" she grinned, summoning her broom. "I can't wait to see you walk into the Great Hall tomorrow morning with green and silver hair!" she exclaimed. Teddy scowled and summoned his broom as the clock chimed ten times.

"Crap, Filch has probably locked the doors!" he gave his broom a thoughtful look.

"But we can still fly!" she raised her brow mischievously.

A few minutes later, two owls alighted on the Astronomy tower.

"That took more effort that I thought!" Teddy exclaimed hopping down from the merlon.

"It wasn't that bad," said Artemis. "It's a good thing nobody was up here making out." She looked at him and bit her lip as she felt her face flush.

"Yeah. That would have been problematic. I guess we'd better get back, yeah?"

"I guess," Artemis sighed. "Cats then?"

Teddy nodded, transforming into a calico cat while Artemis transformed into a Siamese. They raced one another down the stairs and frolicked through the quiet castle halls, skidding to a halt when they reached the Entrance Hall and encountered a grey tabby cat with peculiar face markings that resembled spectacles.

* * *

"Wilfred!" Dionysus exclaimed, scrambling from his nanny's lap and reaching for the tattered stuffed dragon in his father's hand. The four-year-old held the toy by a wing, which was barely attached to the animal's body as his father lifted him into his arms.

"Dionysus, you must be more careful with your belongings," Draco said. "Poor Wilfred looks very much worse for wear. Perhaps it's time for him to be replaced, yes?"

"Oh, no, Father! Wilfred is my best friend!" the boy exclaimed. Draco heaved an exasperated sigh as he lowered his son into bed and drew up the covers.

"But, Di, his wing is about to fall away. Look." He gently lifted the toy. "A Malfoy dragon can't have a broken wing, my prince."

Dionysus looked up at his father with a trembling lip and his silver eyes filled with water.

"Sir, I'm certain that Wilfred can be mended," said Jessamine. She took the dragon and carefully laid it on the pillow beside the little boy. "Now, you must let Wilfred rest, Dionysus. Tomorrow, he's going to have a special surgery with magical dragon-mending thread and he'll be good as new." She smiled.

"Promise?" he looked at her skeptically.

"Cross my heart!" she replied, drawing an X over her chest. "But only if you go to sleep now, okay?"

"Good night, young prince," said Draco, kissing his forehead.

"Good night, Father." Dionysus turned on his side and closed his eyes with a yawn.

Draco followed the nanny from the room, flicking his wand to lower the lights before closing the door.

"That's quite a tall order, Miss Glover."

"Mending toys is in my job description, sir. I _would_ simply sew the wing back on, but since it's enchanted, I'll ask Pippy to restore it before he wakes up." She gave him a wink.

"How clever!"

"I'm certain it would be nothing to replace it, but children grow attached to things. I still have my favorite doll."

Draco had only to look around the nursery to know what she said was true. He nodded as his eyes landed upon the rocking horse in the corner.

"Yes, well, thank you for waiting up with him. Sleep well, Miss Glover."

"Good night, Mr. Malfoy." They parted ways as she headed to her quarters at the end of the hall and Draco turned to climb the stairs to the third floor where the master suite was located.

"Where was it?" Épiphanie asked, closing the book she was reading.

"Down by the folly," he replied unbuttoning his waistcoat.

"They had a nature lesson down there this afternoon. He must have left it then."

"Ah. Well, he was quite distressed, and I'm afraid I only exacerbated things by suggesting we replace it. The poor thing is about to lose a wing. Enter Miss Glover to save the day." Draco flicked his wand and the waistcoat sailed into the wardrobe. He summoned pyjamas and leaned against the bedpost to step out of his shoes.

"She is a godsend. We should consider a raise. It has been seven years," said Épiphanie as she sat down at her vanity and picked up a comb, parting her hair down the middle to braid it.

The fireplace glowed bright green as the flames flared momentarily, setting off a soft gong. The couple turned to the hearth just as Professor McGonagall's face appeared in the flames.

"Headmistress? Is something wrong? Are the girls alright?" Draco asked. Épiphanie came to kneel beside him.

"I'm sorry to contact you so late Malfoy. The girls are fine, but there has been an incident involving Artemis. If you would, please come through to my office immediately."

* * *

"Look at those cats down there," Aamaal pointed out of the window. Grace squinted out into the darkness just in time to see two tiny animals darting across the grass towards the Quidditch pitch.

"Huh. I wonder who they belong to," she said. "Looks like Hagrid startled them." She pointed to the half-giant who stood looking around a moment before walking in the opposite direction.

"I guess if I was a cat, I'd probably be scared of Hagrid too. At least at first. I don't think he could even show malice toward a scorpion about to sting him." The two girls giggled. Grace sighed.

"Well, it's almost ten o'clock. Anybody out of the dorms now has certainly been caught or found a really great spot to snog," she said, looking up at the tapestry of a wizard teaching trolls to dance. "This is the stupidest looking thing I've ever seen."

"I wish we were in the same house. Then we wouldn't have to keep coming up with excuses to be paired up for prefects patrol," said Aamaal.

"It'd be nice to have some place private to spend time together." Suddenly, a door appeared in the wall behind her. Grace spun around.

"Morganna!" They looked at one another and back to the door.

"Do you think it's safe to go in?" Aamaal asked. Grace shrugged. She pushed open the door to reveal a large room with a comfortable couch that faced a fireplace. Colorful pillows were scattered on the floor in front of the couch.

"Wait a minute!" Grace looked over her shoulder at the tapestry and back into the room. "This is the Room of Requirement!" She pulled Aamaal into the room.

"What?"

"The Room of Requirement. It's also known as the Come and Go Room. I overheard Father and Uncle—erm—Professor Longbottom talking about it once. This is where The Resistance hid out when the Death Eaters had taken over the school. It's how Harry infiltrated the castle before the Battle began. It transforms into whatever you need!"

"Really?"

Grace nodded. "Except food. It won't provide that."

"Well that sucks. Can you imagine the parties we could have if it provided butterbeer?"

"I know, right?" They giggled and ran over to the couch, leaping onto it. Grace pulled Aamaal into a kiss. She gently pulled her hijab away from her hair and unwound her bun, twining her fingers in the dark tresses.

Aamaal slid Grace's robes off her shoulders and tugged her shirt free of her skirt. The two girls touched one another tentatively as they continued to kiss.

"Are you sure about this?" Grace whispered when Aamaal pulled her jumper over her head.

"I don't know," she replied, moving her fingers to loosen Grace's tie and unbutton her blouse as she planted kisses down the girl's neck.

Minutes later, both girls lay on the sofa in just their underwear, hands exploring the unknown territory of sexual adventure. Grace rolled her hips upwards to Aamaal as she slid her leg between her knees, the friction of the other witch's thigh against her sent a shiver through Grace and she slid her hands down Aamaal's back to cup her bottom, and press them closer together.

"I—I don't know what I'm doing," Grace whispered. She traced the lacy edge of Aamaal's bra as she buried her face in the sweet-smelling hollow between her breasts, kissing her sternum.

"Let's figure it out together," Aamaal replied breathlessly.

"Okay."

"Can I touch you?" Aamaal asked. She bit her lip. Grace nodded and Aamaal slipped a hand into her panties. Grace held her breath as she felt her clitoris perk up. She let out a soft whimper as the other girl's soft fingers rubbed over it, and she pulled Aamaal's bra down, exposing a dusky nipple. She flicked her tongue over it, earning a shudder and a sigh from the young Ravenclaw. Aamaal slowly slid a finger inside, while using her thumb to continue rubbing circles over Grace's clit. Grace tensed, and then sighed, closing her lips around Aamaal's nipple and giving it a tug.

Grace wriggled out of her panties and pushed Aamaal's down. She lifted her hips to the other girl's until their clits were kissing.

"Oh, Merlin!" she quietly exclaimed. Aamaal shivered and rocked her hips against the young Slytherin prefect beneath her.

"Oh, mmmm!" she moaned softly, and pressed her lips to Grace's.

The two young witches stared deeply into one another's eyes as they merged into one another, until they discovered the ecstasy of their first orgasm, their quiet cries barely heard in the hidden chamber.

"Was this okay?" Grace asked later. They were huddled together with their legs tucked under them, knees touching. She inclined her head towards Aamaal's until their foreheads touched and she gently stroked her cheek.

"Why? Are you sorry we did that?" Aamaal asked. She slid her hand over Grace's thigh.

"I'm not, I just—" She bit her lip. "Never mind."

"Come on, Grace. You can talk to me." Aamaal laced her fingers with Grace's.

"I'm not easy, Aamaal. You know my history. People are always talking about me, staring and watching to catch me embarrassing myself."

"But you're a Slytherin. You're clever and cunning enough to deal with that. I'm a Ravenclaw. We always find a way out of every situation. That makes us a good team." She brushed her thumb over Grace's lips. "You're my best friend, Grace Malfoy. I think I'm in love with you."

"You're _my_ best friend, Aamaal Shafiq." Grace leaned in and pressed her lips to Aamaal's. "And I think I'm in love with you too."


	40. Love Hurts

Neville Longbottom laid aside the essay that he was grading and placed his quill carefully on his desk before answering the knock at the door of his quarters.

"Grace! It's rather late, my dear. What brings you by?" he regarded the nervous look on his goddaughter's face. "Is something the matter?" He stepped away from the door and allowed her to enter.

"I don't know, Uncle Neville. I just—" she sighed.

"Tea?" he offered. She shrugged. He put the kettle on and took a seat in the chair across from her. "It's generally best to start at the beginning." He gave her a smile.

"Well, it's…it's this letter from Father." She frowned and shoved the letter at Neville. He unfolded the parchment and immediately recognized Draco's neat writing.

 _My Dearest Grace,_

 _Congratulations on prevailing in the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship. Mother and I are very proud of you (Well, Mother is still quite livid that I allowed you to participate in such a dangerous contest, but she's proud nonetheless.) We can't wait to see you and Artemis at winter break._

 _Grace, dear, you have grown into a lovely young woman and you continuously make your mother and me proud at all times. I do not wish you to feel pressured; however, it is time that you begin to consider your future._

 _I am writing to let you know that you will make your debut at The Sacred Twenty-Eight this year. There will be a number of eligible young wizards in attendance. Pleasant Fawley has written to ask if he might be your escort. I shall be sending an owl to Neville inquiring as to the young man's character before making a decision. If there is a young man of interest to you, that you should prefer to be your escort, do let me know, and I will take it under consideration._

 _As Always,_

 _Your Loving Father_

Neville looked up at the seventeen-year-old sitting across from him with her legs tucked beneath her as she chewed on her fingernails. She'd received it earlier in the day, but had only bothered to open the letter when she returned from her patrol. The heady emotion of her encounter with Aamaal had dissipated with each line she'd read.

"Well, I've not yet received an owl from your father, but I can say that Pleasant Fawley is quite a genial young man. He's on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, yes?" The kettle whistled, and Neville poured two cups of tea. He passed a cup and saucer to Grace, and set a plate of biscuits on the side table before rejoining his seat. The young Slytherin sipped her tea daintily and set the cup on the table with a sigh. "But I gather from your expression, that there's someone else who has taken your eye?"

"Yes, sir." She sniffled and looked away.

"Perhaps a certain Ravenclaw by the name of Shafiq?" Neville raised a brow. Grace turned back to him in shock.

"Y-you know about—" she stammered.

"I see the way you look at one another in class. How closely you walk in the corridors." Neville set his own cup aside and looked directly at her. "Aamaal's a lovely girl."

"But that's just it! _She's a girl!_ " Grace wailed. "She's a _witch_ —not a wizard!" She leapt to her feet and began to pace in front of the fireplace.

"Which do you prefer?" He sat back, crossing his legs.

"I—I don't _know!_ Why do I even have to choose?" Grace spread her hands, plaintively.

"You _don't_ have to choose, Gracie. Sexuality is fluid. I believe you're worrying unnecessarily. Your father appears to be amenable to a love match."

"But Uncle Neville, the letter says 'if there's a young _man'_ that I wish to be my escort—not a _girl!_ " Grace huffed and threw herself back into the chair, slouching.

Neville leaned forward in his chair. "Well, if you've not told him any different, what else is he expected to write? Listen, Grace, my dear, I think you're underestimating your father just a bit. I knew him in school, and he was so _far_ from the wizard that he is now—no—I'm not just talking about being a Death Eater. The person he was didn't make him very happy. The wizard I know now is very different in many ways, and much happier for it. I know he's still a bit old-fashioned and aristocratic, but he's also a pureblood wizard, which among some things, makes him more open-minded than you realize. The magical world isn't quite like the muggle world. These things are not such an issue to us."

"Just because he's friends with Uncle Dean and Uncle Seamus doesn't mean he'll be okay with his own daughter being in love with another witch."

"Merlin, the way you whinge, it's hard to believe you're not his biological child!" Neville muttered under his breath. "Lucius intended to arrange a marriage between your father and Artemis' mother. Did Draco ever tell you that?"

"No."

"It's true. He also didn't want him to return to Hogwarts to complete his education either. Had Draco not defied his father's wishes, he never would have met Épiphanie. He certainly wouldn't be the man he is today, and that includes being able to count me, Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, Uncle Dean, Uncle Seamus, and Aunt Hannah as his friends—just to name a few. He would gladly lay down his life for your mother, and has risked it on more than one occasion just to prove himself worthy of her, because she changed his life—for the better. Without her, you and Artemis might never have come into his life—none of you children." Neville leaned forward and took the girl's hands in his own. "Grace, love, I know your father quite well. If you want him to give you and Aamaal a chance, you have to give _him_ a chance."

"I don't know." She raked her fingers through her hair. "Will you talk to him?"

"No, love. This is something you need to do yourself. It's part of growing up." He squeezed her hands. Grace heaved a resigned sigh and nodded.

"How is it you're so confident that he'll understand?"

"Let's just say I have a sense about these things." He gave her a reassuring smile and stood, drawing her into a hug.


	41. Repeating History

"This is _not_ the opening ceremony of the Quidditch League Cup!" Draco hissed with barely restrained fury as he paced in front of the third-year Slytherin and fourth-year Gryffindor sitting contritely before the headmistress' desk, their broomsticks clutched against their shoulders. Madame Hooch rested against a nearby table. Harry stood to the side, his arms crossed over his chest. Dumbledore and Snape looked on from their portraits with keen interest. Minerva McGonagall pressed her lips together in a thin line. Épiphanie stood next to Ginny and shook her head.

"I just _know_ I'm not standing here right now!" Épiphanie clapped her hands, punctuating her words, as she scolded them. "I would expect some foolishness like this out of Grace, but _you?_ For real, Artemis?" She shook her head and turned away. "Mmm, unh-unh! You better get her, Drake. Whoo! You better get her!" She shook her head again and began to pace in front of the fireplace.

"By rights, The Headmistress could very well strip you both of your positions on your teams!" Ginny said. Both teens' hair went completely white.

"But we were just—" Teddy protested.

"No 'buts' Teddy! It was a reckless display, and you were out of the dorms after hours!" Harry's voice was low and tight.

"But!"

"Artemis, you must remember that you are the granddaughter of the Minister of Magic, and conduct yourself in a manner befitting your station!" Draco lectured. "Imagine if the press had gotten wind of this little escapade? That senile old bat, Skeeter would have turned it into an epic scandal!"

"Don't be mad at Artemis, Draco. It was my fault," said Teddy. "I was teasing Artemis, and said she didn't have the guts to do the Shacklebolt Special."

"Be that as it may, Teddy, both of you acted negligently." Harry faced them both. "Imagine if one or both of you had been hurt?"

"But Uncle—" Artemis began, turning plaintively to Harry, but Draco gave her a look that said he would brook no argument from her with any of them. "Never mind," she muttered.

"The two of you are to attend detention with Madame Hooch for the next three weeks," said Minerva. "You will also turn over your brooms for the same period of time." Both teens gave the headmistress a plaintive look. "Additionally, _one hundred_ points will be deducted from Slytherin _and_ Gryffindor." Artemis and Teddy stared at her, mouths agape.

"Oh, _please!_ " Épiphanie scoffed. "You might as well fix your faces. You _should_ consider such punishment a gift! Wait 'til your house and teammates find out what you've cost them!" She crossed her arms and began to pace anew, pursing her lips. "Got me out here in the middle of the night lookin' all kinds of crazy!" she muttered under her breath.

"It's late. If no one else has anything to add I think these youngsters should head to their dormitories," said Professor McGonagall.

"Yes ma'am. Yes, Headmistress," they mumbled, shoulders slumped. They reluctantly presented their broomsticks to the flying instructor.

"We're sorry, Harry, Draco, Épiphanie, Ginny," said Teddy. He hung his head guiltily.

"Yeah," Artemis mumbled.

The young teens grudgingly hugged their parents and guardians before trudging out of the office. Madame Hooch followed them, chuckling softly as she departed. Draco turned when he heard a snort over his shoulder. He looked up at the portrait of Severus Snape, who wore an uncharacteristic smirk.

"I am suddenly overcome by a certain feeling of déja vu," the former Potions Master and Slytherin Head commented.

"Indeed!" Professor McGonagall smiled. Draco and Épiphanie took the chairs recently vacated by the children, suddenly looking discomfited to be reminded of their own adolescent misadventures.

"Oh, _yeah!_ " Harry grinned, remembering the incident in which Épiphanie and Draco were photographed by the worldwide press engaged in some impressive stunt flying during her first broom experience.

"I told you that letting those two be broom-kids might not have been the best idea," Ginny smiled ruefully.

"I fear, Minerva," said Professor Dumbledore, from his portrait, "That you certainly face a particular challenge with the Potter and Malfoy families, not to mention the ever-growing Weasley clan." He smiled, his painted eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.

"Yes, thank you Albus," The Headmistress replied curtly. "However, Messrs. Potter and Malfoy continue to encourage the Board of Governors to _reject_ my applications for retirement."

"Well, _surely_ you can't blame us for being unable to find a suitable head who measures up to the impeccable standard that you have set, Professor." Draco smirked mischievously.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy." She gave him a baleful look. "I should consider myself fortunate that thus far none of _this_ generation has gotten to know Poppy Pomfrey as well as yours did, gentlemen—Miss Malfoy's unceremonious arrival into the world notwithstanding of course."

Draco, Épiphanie and Harry groaned. Ginny laughed.

* * *

Artemis kicked the nearest table as she entered the Slytherin common room and sniffled.

"Artemis? Are you really just coming in? What are you doing out after hours?" Grace asked as she entered the common room a few seconds later.

"Don't bother docking me points, I'm already busted. Mum and Dad are just this side of furious." Artemis pouted.

" _Mum and Dad?_ Salazar, Artie, what did you _do?_ " Grace asked, eyes wide.

"Well, well, well! Taking our pet for a walk in the moonlight?" Granville Parkinson sauntered in from the boys' dormitory.

"Sod off, Parkinson! What are _you_ doing up so late? Looking for pixies?" Grace sneered. Artemis snickered. Granville scowled.

"You think that's funny do you, ' _Malfoy'?"_ He made air quotes and shot Artemis with a sneer. "I hear Professor Hagrid has added _you_ to the syllabus for Care of Magical Creatures."

"Perhaps you're in need of a practical lesson, _uncle._ " Artemis let out a low menacing growl and transformed into a large Rottweiler. She bared her fangs and moved slowly towards him. Granville let out a yelp and raised his wand as he backed up.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Grace disarmed him, catching his wand and leveling a glare at him as Artemis continued to growl, stalking closer.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy? Call her off!" he pleaded. Grace rolled her eyes and gave him a look of disdain.

"Apologize to my sister."

"Okay! Okay!" he held his hands out plaintively. "Nice girl. Nice puppy!"

Artemis let out a bark that echoed through the room.

"I said _apologize!_ " Grace snarled. "Do it properly!"

"Alright! I'm sorry, Artemis. Just please—" Granville let out a high pitched shriek as the large dog leapt up, knocking him to the ground. She let out another low growl, her paws on his chest, face inches from his, fangs bared. "Oh, M-merlin!" he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut.

"That's better!" Artemis said after returning to her human form, she gave him a pat on the head and stood. "Oh, Gracie! Would you look at that?" she exclaimed. Grace came to stand beside her sister and let out a scandalized gasp.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, eyeing the damp spot on Granville's trousers. "Aren't we a bit old for that, Parkinson?" She pressed her lips together to stifle her laughter. She grabbed Artemis' hand and they stepped past him, dropping his wand as they went.

"Sweet dreams!" Artemis cooed.

"Watch out for Cornish pixies!" Grace called over her shoulder as they ran down the hall chortling with laughter.

* * *

"Shh! Shh!" Grace put her finger to her lips as she and Artemis entered her dorm. They leapt into Grace's bed and closed the drapes. Grace cast a privacy spell and they lit their wands to cast a soft light into the darkness. "Okay, what happened? How did Mother and Father find out?" she demanded.

"Teddy and I snuck out to the Quidditch pitch." Grace's eyes grew wide.

"You what? Oh, my word! Did you get caught—"

"No!" Artemis quickly dismissed her sister's insinuation. "Teddy bet me that I couldn't do the Special without chickening out."

"Salazar, Artemis! You could have been killed! What were you thinking?"

"Well, I wasn't killed, and I won the bet." Artemis gave her sister a defiant smile. "But McGonagall caught us on the way down from the Astronomy tower. Why does she have to be a stupid animagus?"

"Wait a minute! You guys were the cats we—I saw running across the grounds earlier!"

"Yeah. When we realized we were locked out, we transformed into owls and flew up to the Astronomy Tower to get back into the castle."

"Wow! So what happened?"

"McGonagall sent for Mum and Dad, and Harry and Ginny too. She summoned our brooms, and we lost them for three weeks and have detention with Madam Hooch. Father gave me the 'Minister's granddaughter' speech, and Mum did that crazy clapping thing. We also got docked 100 points!"

"100 points! Artemis!"

"I _know!_ I get it, okay! Montague's gonna be so pissed!"

"You're telling me!" Grace exclaimed. "At least we don't have a match coming up in that time. Merlin, Artemis, you could at least have gotten a proper snog for all your trouble!" Artemis' face fell.

"He'd have to notice me first."

"Aw, c'mon, Art. You guys are practically joined at the hip. It's _unseemly_ for a Gryffindor and Slytherin to be so close!" she smirked. "Look at Father and Uncle Neville!"

"I'm _serious,_ Gracie! Teddy just sees me as his best mate, like we're still playing in the nursery." Artemis pouted.

"But there's so few metamorphagi, and less who can become multiple species. You'd think that would be a reason for you guys to develop something deeper. Does he talk about other girls?"

"No, but I've seen him looking at Victoire Weasley lately." Artemis wiped a tear. "I thought since we were up on the tower that maybe—he didn't even notice."

"Aw, Artemis!" Grace pulled her sister into a hug. "If Teddy can't see how special you are, then he doesn't deserve you. Mother would say give him some space and don't limit your options. What about Jasper Avery? Didn't he ask you to Hogsmeade?" Artemis scoffed.

"Father would be most displeased."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." They sat quietly for a moment.

"So, what about you? When are you planning to tell us about Aamaal?"

"You _know about that?_ "

"You have any idea how many times I've seen you guys snogging down by the broom kids' changing rooms at the arena? Besides, you turned down Seth Ollivander's invitation to Hogsmeade, and Augustus Burke's invitation to the Hallowe'en dance. Of course, _any_ witch would eat her wand before accepting a date with Augustus Burke." They giggled.

"Yeah, his grandmother's portrait went on and on, insulting me for a week. Said Father had turned me into a pathetic blood-traitor and I wasn't good enough for her darling Augustus anyway!" They giggled again.

"But seriously, Grace. About Aamaal. Are you in love with her?" Grace reluctantly nodded, her face reddening. "Have you—have you guys had a shag?" Artemis' eyes grew wide when her sister's face flushed even deeper and she averted her eyes. "Oh, Merlin! Really? When?"

"Tonight, after prefects patrol," Grace confessed. Artemis let out a gasp and bounced on the bed.

"Get out! What was it like?" she demanded. Grace gave her shoulder a poke.

"I'm not telling you _that!_ "

"Okay, fine!" Artemis huffed.

"Father wants me to attend the Twenty-Eight ball with Pleasant Fawley."

"Oh, Gracie, really? Why don't you just tell him you want to go with Aamaal? The Shafiqs are members."

"What if he says no?"

"What if he says yes?"

"Come on, Artemis. You know Father. He wants me to debut to meet an eligible wizard of breeding, because 'it's time that you begin to consider your future.'" Grace mimicked their father's voice.

"When did he say that?" Artemis asked.

"He sent me an owl earlier today." Grace fell back onto her pillows. "What am I going to do, Artemis?"

"I think you should just tell him how you feel about Aamaal. It can't be as bad as you think. The Shafiqs are a respectable family, and he likes Aamaal. He and Mother are close to Uncle Dean and Uncle Seamus aren't they? Father would rather consider a love match than see you unhappy. You've heard the way he talks about Gran's relationship with his father."

"Maybe." Grace stared up at the bed canopy.

"Just think about it, Grace," Artemis said with a yawn. "I'm going to bed." She pushed back the curtains and slipped her shoes on.

"Artemis?" Grace sat up.

"Yeah?" Artemis looked at her sister as she picked up her wand.

"Thanks." Grace stood and gave Artemis a hug. "I'm glad we're sisters."

"Me too. Goodnight, Gracie."

"'Night, Artie. Watch out for pixies!" They shared a hushed giggle and Artemis paused at the door, giving her sister a smile.

"Always."


	42. A Formal Coming Out

"You look beautiful, baby girl! What's the matter?" Épiphanie asked her oldest child as she stood behind her at the girl's vanity in her suite at Antares Hall.

"Nothing, Mother. I—" Grace sighed.

 _You wouldn't understand._

"Wouldn't I?" Épiphanie summoned the chair from Grace's desk and carefully sat, smoothing the fine fabric of her dress robes. "What is this all about, Grace? You've been moping since you got home for the holiday. Are you really so bothered about making a debut?"

"Who even _has_ an arranged marriage any more, Mum? Uncle Neville said Father defied his parents and refused to marry Artemis' mother!"

"Gracie, your father is not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. You know I'm not having that. He's happy to allow a love match for any of you children."

"Are you certain?"

"Of course I am! If you're not interested in Pleasant Fawley, that's perfectly okay. Your father is simply excited to be able to present you to society this evening. Just be nice to the boy and add him to your dance card. If you're not interested in him or any of the other young men, be sure that you don't lead them on, okay?" They heard the bell, and Épiphanie stood, offering the girl her gloves. "Come on. I love to see the gaping look on their faces when we come down the stairs!" she giggled.

* * *

Grace fixed a smile on her face as she politely filled her dance card, making sure to give Pleasant Fawley a moderate amount of time on the dance floor. As an heiress and eldest granddaughter of the Minister, she'd predictably attracted the attention of a number of young wizards from throughout pureblood society.

"Good evening, love!" Neville bowed politely as the master of ceremonies announced a polka. "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

She nodded, rising gracefully from her seat and nodding to her parents as she allowed him to escort her to the floor.

"You are as graceful a dancer as your mother, my dear!" Neville exclaimed as they moved about the floor to the lively music.

"Well, she taught me nearly everything that I know, and Father practiced with me all the time," she replied.

"And I see that Mr. Fawley is your escort."

"Yes, sir." She grimaced.

"So, I can assume that you have not spoken to your father then?"

"I just—I couldn't, Uncle Neville. He was so excited about it all. You won't believe how much gold he spent on my ensemble for tonight! I'll bet the only witch in attendance with more expensive robes is Mother. Look! He even presented me with the necklace he gave to Mother the first time they attended the Ball together!" She indicated the serpent choker about her neck.

"Just consider this one question, Grace, my love. How long can your happiness be dependent upon your ability to please your father?"

The dance came to an end, and he gave her a bow, escorting her back to the reception room where Pleasant Fawley stood conversing with a group of young wizards. She took the glass he offered her, and sipped thoughtfully.

The master of ceremonies called a quadrille, and the young couple found themselves in a set with the Malfoys, the Potters, and Amaal Shafiq, with her partner, another Hufflepuff named Ezra MacMillan. Grace forced herself not to meet the mesmerizing, dark gaze and perfect full lips of the witch across from her, and fixed her stare upon the sapphire jeweled adornment on the girl's forehead. Still, Grace couldn't help admiring the swirling skirts of the traditional abaya, in vibrant blue bhagalpuri fabric with heavy gold embroidery, once they began to dance. When the dance was over, she noticed Amaal look back at her as Ezra led her away.

"Is everything alright, My Lady?" Pleasant asked, as he escorted her from the floor.

"Oh, erm, yes. I'm fine." She tore her eyes away from the soft folds of the filmy fabric which made up the other witch's hijab, and focused on her own escort, giving him a smile.

"I don't know if I have said so, but you look very beautiful this evening."

"Thank you. You look quite dashing yourself, Mr. Fawley." They accepted glasses from a waiter as they returned to the reception area.

"Does it not feel a bit awkward to be so formal? I know it's proper etiquette, but I sound like Professor Flitwick!" he chuckled.

"I know! Of course, Father is pretty much always formal, so I'm a bit used to it. Nonetheless, it does seem rather odd to hear from a school chum." She gave him perhaps the first genuine smile she'd felt all evening.

Their conversation faltered and they quietly sipped their drinks as they observed the goings on around them. Her gaze landed on her parents, who were clustered with the Potters and Longbottoms. Her father lifted his champagne flute and nodded in their direction. They returned the salute. Pleasant exhaled slowly and took Grace's elbow, leading her away from the crowds, but ensuring that they did not appear to be engaging in impropriety. She looked at him inquisitively.

"Lady Grace—"

"Fawley, you can call me Grace. No one is listening. It's quite alright."

"Oh, yes—erm—Grace—erm—" He tugged at the lapels of his robe. "I have a confession to make." His cheeks colored. "I didn't ask your father for permission to escort you tonight because I had hoped he might find me a suitable match." Pleasant bit his lip.

 _I wanted to attend the ball with someone else._

"Who _did_ you want to ask to the ball?" She chanced a look over at her parents. They were heading back to the dance floor.

"I—erm—how—what makes you think I wanted to ask someone else?" He gazed at her suspiciously.

"Oh, dear! I'm really sorry—sometimes I don't realize I've done that!"

"You're a _legilimens?"_ His voice was full of awe.

"Yes, but—" Grace gave him a plaintive look.

"I won't tell. I promise." He smiled. She returned his smile nervously. "I—erm—I have a bit of a secret myself."

"You don't have to tell me, Pleasant. I'm not going to invade your privacy either. I didn't mean to do that," she said.

"No, it's fine. It's what I wanted to tell you—it's—Well, I wanted to ask Ezra."

"Ezra MacMillan?" Grace gave him a look of surprise.

"Yeah. His parents arranged for him to escort Aamaal Shafiq, so he suggested that I should ask your father for permission to be your escort. That way, we might at least have the opportunity to pass one another, if not dance together." He shrugged and gave a wistful smile.

"Oh, wow, Pleasant! Do your parents know that you fancy one another?" she asked.

"Well, I think my parents have an idea that I fancy blokes, but not necessarily him. They haven't voiced their suspicions, but when I told them that I would be your escort tonight, they appeared to be genuinely surprised. My brother says they probably don't care, since he and his wife have a son to continue the family line. Ezra's an only child though, so there's pressure there because his uncle Ernest only has daughters."

"I understand." They both looked longingly at the young couple on the other side of the room.

"Grace, I was wondering. Erm—you spend an awful lot of time with Amaal. Do you—" he began.

"Yes?" she snatched her gaze away from the object of her affection, but never received his question, having realized that her parents were headed in their direction.

"Mr. Fawley, Grace, how are you enjoying your first Twenty-Eight ball?" asked Épiphanie, as they joined the young couple.

"It is certainly everything that we'd been told it would be, Lady Salisbury. I would like to thank you and Lord Salisbury again for allowing me to be Lady Grace's escort." Pleasant smiled genially.

"Of course, Mr. Fawley. Professor Longbottom and Headmistress McGonagall assured us that you are a young wizard of the highest caliber. Mr. Potter has also observed that you are quite a fine Quidditch Seeker. Have you considered playing professionally?" Draco asked.

"Really, Father! Scouting my escort?" Grace admonished.

"In business, daughter, one takes advantage of every opportunity," Draco smoothly replied.

"I hadn't quite given the idea much thought, My Lord. Most of my family has been involved with The Ministry. I assumed I would likely do the same."

"Of course. I seem to recall your cousin, Sullivan, I believe, when we were in school. He's head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir. I don't think I quite aspire to that title however," the boy shrugged.

Grace tuned out the conversation going on around her and found her gaze roaming the room for a glimpse of vivid blue robes once more.

"Grace?"

"Oh, forgive me!" she was drawn back to the conversation. "What was that?"

"Would you do your dear father the honor of this dance?" Draco bowed to her.

"Of course, Father." She took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the floor.

"My darling Charis, it seems just yesterday that I walked into Mother's cottage to find you curled in her lap and looking at me with those wide eyes. I can't believe that you've grown into such a beautiful and formidable young witch! Do you remember our first mazurka?"

"It was the night before my sixth birthday—at Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's and Uncle Ronald and Aunt Hermione's betrothal."

"I'm so grateful that I'm still young enough to keep up with you!" Draco turned Grace from their prancing promenade into his arms.

"You'll always be my favorite dance partner," she said, giving him a smile.

"Ah, some young wizard will soon catch your eye, and I'll longingly reminisce of these days."

Grace's smile wavered a bit, and she cast her gaze aside.

"What is it, my butterfly? I can't help but notice that you've appeared somewhat dispirited throughout the holiday. What's troubling you, beloved? I don't like to see that pensive expression you've had all evening."

The dance came to an end, and Grace lowered her eyes as she curtsied, not wishing her father to see the tears that threatened to fall. Draco was not so easily put off.

"Has something happened with Mr. Fawley?" He stopped and turned to her, lifting her chin as they stepped off the dance floor, his expression dark.

"Oh, Father, no! Pleasant has been a perfect gentleman. Although…he'd rather have attended the ball with someone else, and—" She breathed a heavy sigh. "—well, so would I."

"Why didn't you tell me? Darling, I'm not opposed to a love match, if that is your wish."

"I didn't think you would approve."

"Dear, Merlin! It's not one of the Parkinson boys, is it?" Draco gave her a horrified stare.

"Father, _really!_ I _do_ have taste—and Artemis would have my head if I even dreamed of dating one of her _insipidly_ fatuous cousins!" she exclaimed. Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

"Then just of whom do you believe that I would not approve?" he asked. Grace lowered her eyes again. "Grace, my love, please don't leave me in suspense."

Grace heaved another sigh and looked away. He followed her gaze across the room, where Pleasant Fawley stood with his parents, Ezra and the MacMillans, and the Shafiqs. Mahmoud Shafiq caught his eye and gestured for them to join them. Before Draco could respond, his daughter's face took on a surprising expression, and she tugged on his hand, urging him in their direction.

Draco looked at Grace curiously as she worried her lip and positioned herself a bit behind him, her eyes cast to the floor. He turned his gaze to Épiphanie, who shrugged slightly as she joined them.

"Lord Salisbury," Mahmoud Shafiq pressed his palms together and inclined his head.

"Shafiq." Draco nodded in response.

"Malfoy, it has come to our attention that these young people may have engaged in a bit of subterfuge this evening." He glanced at his daughter, Amaal, whose eyes were lowered. "It appears that none of them is attending the ball with their intended," said Shafiq.

"So I've been told." Draco turned a cool gaze to Fawley who stood nervously beside MacMillan. "Perhaps _someone_ will enlighten us as to whom they wish to make acquaintance?" he demanded. Amaal suddenly stepped forward, head high. Draco looked at her with surprise.

"Lord Salisbury," she curtsied. "If it is agreeable to you and my parents, I would like the honor of continuing this evening as Grace's escort," she said.

"Grace?" Draco turned and looked into his daughter's earnest, yet hopeful eyes. He turned back to Mahmoud Shafiq, who nodded his assent.

Grace held her breath.

He smiled, and placed his daughter's hands into the clasp of the beautiful Ravenclaw's. "Just treat her heart as you wish her to treat yours," he said.


	43. Epilogue: September 1, 2017

"Aoede, let it rest!" Épiphanie exclaimed as they stepped onto platform 9 ¾.

"But I just don't see why first-years can't try out for Quidditch. You did, Mother!"

"Mother wasn't a first year," said Mneme. "She'd just never been to school before then!"

"You can all try out for Quidditch next year," said Draco.

"And I'm going to be the _fiercest_ Seeker in Hogwarts history!" Melete proclaimed.

"Yeah, right, Melete!" Aoede snorted. "With _those_ glasses? You'll be lucky to catch the quaffle, even if it's stuck to your broomstick!"

"Aoede, that's not nice," said Épiphanie.

"Uncle Harry was the youngest seeker in Hogwarts history, and he wears glasses! He beat Father _loads_ of times!" Melete retorted.

"A _gross_ exaggeration, my love," Draco rolled his eyes. "Come along girls. We don't want to be late." He followed his three youngest daughters as they pushed their trolleys, and held tightly to the hand of his youngest child. Eight-year-old Dionysus shook his head at the antics of his sisters.

The Malfoy triplets gazed excitedly at the waiting train. A cloud of steam from the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts express floated along the platform, shrouding the crowds of students and parents loading trunks and cages onto the train.

"Hey, there's Eli and Emma!" Mneme pointed and waved. Draco and Épiphanie turned to see Dean and Seamus walking towards them, pushing their children's trolleys.

"Merlin, I thought this day would never come!" Dean exclaimed, giving Épiphanie a peck on the cheek. "Emma was up before sunrise, _re-packing_ her trunk!"

"I don't think the girls slept at all last night. I kept hearing giggles down their hall well after midnight," she replied. "There's Harry and Ginny. Oh, Albus looks nervous."

"James said he's worried about being sorted into Slytherin," said Eli. "Hey, James! Check out my new broom!" The dark-skinned boy ran up the platform to greet his friend.

" _I_ can't imagine a better house to be in, personally!" Aoede rolled her eyes and tossed her head. Her long white-blond curls bounced in contrast to her caramel-colored complexion. Given their distinctive features, Épiphanie was often asked, particularly by muggles, if the children were Melanesian—until they saw their father.

"That's my girl!" Draco egged her on. Épiphanie pinched his arm.

"I wouldn't care which house I'm in, so long as I have friends," said Emma. The girl's blue eyes flashed and she fussed with one of her dark pigtails.

"And you'll make _plenty_ o' friends in _Gryffindor_ , macushla!" exclaimed Seamus. Dean poked him in the side. "Ow!" He glared sardonically at his husband, who pointedly ignored him as he adjusted his daughter's hair ribbons.

The triplets, Dionysus and Emma all made their way over to where the Potter children stood with Eli, while Harry and Ginny joined the adults just as Ron and Hermione arrived with Rose and Hugo.

"So, how was Connecticut?" Hermione asked.

"Very American," Draco replied. "Actually, I found it to be quite surprisingly...quaint. It's certainly very different than New Orleans, and the University is quite acceptable."

"Acceptable, Draco?" said Hermione. "Yale University is one of the most prestigious schools in the United States. It's very nearly on par with Oxford."

"So, what made Artemis decide to attend University? I thought she had plans to become a curse breaker," said Ginny.

"She went because she wanted to get as far away from Teddy Lupin as possible!"

They all turned with surprise to Grace, whom nobody had seen approach. The young witch wore black flying robes and leather pants with tall boots that laced up to her thighs. Her dark hair was cut in a pixie shape to frame her cherubic face. Draco looked her up and down with mild disapproval.

"Is this considered acceptable attire for Hogwarts Staff these days, young lady?" he asked as his oldest daughter planted a kiss on his cheek.

"It is for the flying instructor," she replied. "McGonagall doesn't seem to mind. Hello, Mother. Kiss-kiss!" She gave Épiphanie air kisses on each side.

"How's Aamaal?"

"On about having a baby again— _don't_ start!" She gave her mother a cautioning look before she could point out that they'd been married for four years, and neither witch was getting any younger.

 _You're too young to be a grandmother!_

Épiphanie rolled her eyes.

"Flying instructor? Well done, Gracie!" Seamus congratulated her. "So Hooch finally threw in the towel?"

"Well, her hip never quite healed properly after that fall she took refereeing last year's cup match. I can't believe Old McGonagall actually gave me the job!" Grace replied.

"I don't know if I'm more surprised about that, or the fact that she actually trusts _you_ to head Slytherin House." Draco gave her a dubious look. Grace grinned wickedly.

"Just promise you'll look after your sisters," said Épiphanie. Grace gave her mother another hug.

"So, tell me, Grace, what does Teddy have to do with Artemis choosing to go to study in America?" Harry asked.

"Uncle Harry, you _know_ she was _mad_ for Teddy. Has been since they were kids. When he showed up to escort Victoire to the Spring Promenade Ball, she was crushed. Hasn't anybody noticed that her hair has been mousy brown-looking all summer long?"

"Teenagers and their romantic entanglements. Glad that was never me," said Hermione.

"That's because you conjured birds to handle your romantic entanglements," said Harry. Ron gave a snort.

"Oh? Do _tell!_ " Épiphanie exclaimed.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about!" Hermione rebuffed Harry's assertion, her face red.

"Well, judging by the number of young men in her dormitory who just 'stopped by' to offer help with her belongings, I wager that by Christmas, we'll see the old cotton-candy floss we're all so used to," said Épiphanie. Draco pursed his lips unhappily.

The train whistle blew and there was a flurry of activity on the platform as parents and students scrambled to make sure that everyone had their belongings. Albus threw his father one more nervous look as he followed James onto the train. Rose hugged Hermione and Ron, and followed her cousins. Eli and Emma waved to their fathers and the three youngest Malfoy girls each gave their parents hugs and kisses.

"Remember, if you need anything, just let Gracie know," said Épiphanie.

"And _Gracie_ will tell you to owl Mother," said Grace as she waved her wand, levitating their trunks onto the train. Her mother gave her a stern look and she shrugged. " _Kidding!"_

"If your sister isn't helpful, you can always go to Uncle Neville," Draco added. "And remember that a Malfoy always conducts oneself—"

"—with shrewdness," said Melete.

"—ingenuity," added Aoede.

"—and discernment," declared Mneme.

The triplets boarded the train and a few moments later, three dark faces with platinum hair appeared at a window alongside Emma, Rose and Albus. James and Eli waved from another compartment.

* * *

The adults waved to their children until the train was out of sight, expressions of wistfulness upon their faces. Épiphanie, Ginny and Hermione held on to their youngest children. Dean and Seamus held hands, and Épiphanie rested her head on Draco's shoulder.

"D'you think Hogwarts is ready for that bunch?" Ginny mused.

"Who knows?" said Ron, shaking his head.

"Two Potters, an unknown number of Weasleys, two Finnegan-Thomases, and _three_ more Malfoys?" Seamus tallied.

"Don't forget Grace!" added Épiphanie.

"With those Marauders, McGonagall's _really_ going to wish she had retired a decade ago!" Harry declared.

"Mummy! Dionysus has a new horse! He says I can come over and ride, _please!_ " begged Hugo.

"Please, Father?" Dionysus begged.

"I want to come too!" Lily insisted, tugging on Harry's sleeve.

"But then we have to do _girl_ stuff!" Hugo pouted. "Nobody wants to have _tea parties!_ "

" _I_ don't mind if Lily comes. She can ride too. Besides, a gentleman should be honored to take tea with a lady," Dionysus blushed, looking at Lily. She smiled and took his hand.

"I'm sorry, Di. Hugo and Lily can't come to the Manor today. We're staying in London tonight," said Épiphanie.

"Aww! Why do we have to stay in the city?" he pouted.

"Have you forgotten that Ma Mère and Le Pépé have returned from their trip to Kenya? We're having dinner with them tonight."

"Oh. I hope Pépé has brought me another drum for my collection!" Dionysus brightened at the thought.

"Please, God, not another drum!" Épiphanie muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes. Draco snorted.

"Hugo and Lily can come to The Manor tomorrow. They can stay the night and go to the match on Saturday. How about it, young Prince?" Draco suggested. This seemed to suit his son, and the children eagerly planned their upcoming adventure as the adults made their farewells.

Dean and Seamus strolled along with Draco and Épiphanie after stepping back through the barrier into King's Cross Station. Dionysus skipped along a few feet ahead of them.

"Ah! Empty nest at last!" Seamus declared. "I miss them already!"

"They'll be home for Christmas before you know it." Dean wrapped his arm about his husband's waist. "Then you'll be begging for the arrival of twelfth night."

"They're so cute, sweetie! All worn out!" Épiphanie teased. "You have _two_ kids. Owl us when you've raised _six!_ "

"And yet you're on Grace about grandchildren. I still remember your mother's reaction to you becoming a parent at eighteen. What do you think she'd say to you becoming a grandmother at thirty-five?"

" _We_ could apply for another," Seamus suggested.

"What are we—Weasleys? I intend to make the _most_ of the next seven years, pet!" Dean touched the wand in his pocket. " _Crucio Vexo!"_

Seamus gave a startled yelp.

"Well, Seamus, I guess it looks like Moms' Day Out is cancelled next week," Épiphanie laughed.

"I'm afraid Seamus will be a bit _tied up_ for the next few days," said Dean, grinning wickedly.

"Guess Draco will have to come up with some other way to amuse ye, love!" Seamus winked.

"Yes, _whatever_ will we do with ourselves, Mr. Malfoy?"

"You _could_ start walking about the house naked." He whispered and gave her a wicked grin. She frowned.

"First of all, in case you hadn't noticed, we still have _one_ child at home. And second—with _this_ body?" she scoffed. "I gave birth to _three_ children all on the same day! And another one three years later! My stretch marks have stretch marks!"

"What stretch marks?"

"Oh, good answer!" Seamus declared. The two couples reached the street and made promises to get together soon.

"You really still find me beautiful after all this time?" Épiphanie asked as they followed their son into the waiting limousine.

"Of course he does, Mother! You're the most beautiful witch in the _world!_ Right, Father? Mother will be pretty _forever!_ "

Draco pulled her into his embrace and kissed her hand.

"Always."

* * *

 _**Note: The names of all of Draco and_ _Épiphanie's_ _children are derived from the descendants of Zeus—the Graces, Artemis, The Muses (Aoede, Melete, Mneme), and Dionysus (who is coincidentally, the god of epiphany)—these are all siblings of Hermes, bearer of the caduceus._


End file.
